MAKY    qUEEN    OF    SCOTS. 
(  Engraved  by  Goltz  at  the  time  of  her  execution.) 


SIDE  LIGHTS 


ON 


ENGLISH   HISTORY 


BEING    EXTRACTS    FROM 
LETTERS,    PAPERS,    AND    DIARIES    OF   THE    PAST   THREE    CENTURIES 


COLLECTED    AND    ARRANGED    BY 


ERNEST  F.  HENDERSON,  Ph.D. 

Author  of  "History  of  Germany  in  the  Middle  Ages."      Editor  of 
"Select  Historical  Documents.''* 


NEW   YORK 
HENRY    HOLT    AND    COMPANY 

1900 


->v 


COPYRIGHT,    I9OO, 

BY 

ERNEST    F.    HENDERSON. 


Eo  jig  Sister, 

M.  W.  H., 

WHO    FIRST    RECOMMENDED    TO    ME    THE    STUDY 

OF    HISTORY, 

THIS    BOOK    IS    AFFECTIONATELY 

©etricateth 


82944 


PREFACE 


ALL  hail  to  the  new  spirit  that  is  permeating  the  methods  of  teaching  and 
studying  of  history,  in  New  England  especially,  hut  also  as  far  as  the 
influence  of  the  thousand-membered  American  Historical  Society  extends.  It 
is  the  veritable  spirit  of  the  Renaissance  ;  the  spirit  that  made  those  fifteenth 
century  scholars  hunt  for  manuscripts,  and  that  caused  Luther  to  found  his  theo- 
logical teachings  on  the  actual  text  of  the  Bible.  Here  was  a  cloud  of  witnesses 
capable  of  relating  their  own  experiences  as  men  to  men  and  needing  no  veil  of 
priestly  mystery. 

To  those  who  have  followed  the  movement  the  rapid  increase  of  so-called 
source-books  of  history  forms  a  very  interesting  phenomenon.  We  have  them 
for  American,  English  and  general  mediaeval  history,  we  are  promised  them  for 


In  the  original  (see  opposite  page),  following  out  the  motto  "lam  outwardly  painted  and  inwardly  accursed, 
the  skirt  lifts  up  and  displays  these  skeleton  legs,  the  coffin,  serpent  and  temptation. 


vi  Preface 

the  history  of  Greece  and  Rome.  There  is  scarcely  a  publisher  of  repute  who 
is  not  announcing  something  of  the  kind ;  several  universities  are  publishing 
periodical  leaflets.  Historical  associations  devote  whole  sessions  to  the  question 
of  rendering  available  such  material.  Teachers  have  found  that  this  first-hand 
evidence  rouses  the  interest  of  their  students  and  dignifies  their  pursuit.  It 
becomes  to  them  what  the  flowers  are  to  the  botanist  or  the  actual  cases  and 
decisions  to  the  young  lawyer.  The  movement  is  spreading  even  beyond  the 
guild.  The  painter  Verestchagin  lays  aside  his  brush  to  piece  together  the  nar- 
ratives of  survivors  of  Napoleon's  Russian  campaign  and  gives  a  product  of 
realism  as  fine  as  anything  he  has  done  on  canvas. 

In  the  time  devoted  to  the  learning  of  a  given  number  of  pages  in  some 
condensed  history  it  is  now  recognized  that  one  can  read  a  different  kind  of 
matter  more  widely  and  gain  better  results.  Many  facts  become  clear  of  them- 
selves. Who,  for  instance,  can  doubt  Pitt's  attitude  towards  the  American  war 
who  has  once  heard  him  say  in  parliament,  "You  may  traffic  and  barter  with 
every  little  pitiful  German  prince  that  sends  his  subjects  to  the  shambles  .  .  . 
your  efforts  are  forever  vain  and  impotent.  ...  If  I  were  an  American  as  I  am 
an  Englishman,  I  never  would  lay  down  my  arms — never — never — never"? 
Such  illustrative  material  makes  the  cardinal  facts  stand  out  as  though  printed  in 
letters  of  flaming  fire.  And  the  student  is  led  on  almost  unconsciously  to  an 
appreciation  and  criticism  of  authorities,  to  the  proper  use  of  libraries,  to  the 
assimilation  and  combination  of  data,  to  orderly  and  thorough  thinking.  Above 
all,  the  personalities  become  real  and  definite. 

By  such  writings,  we  are  initiated  as  by  no  other  possible  means  into  the 
spirit  of  the  time.  I  ask  you  to  witness  the  execution  of  the  Queen  of  Scots 
through  the  eyes  of  the  person  who  was  appointed  to  tell  Lord  Burleigh  all 
about  it ;  to  follow  the  parliaments  of  Charles  I.  and  of  Cromwell  at  the  hand  of 
men  who  served  in  them.  Often  the  chief  actors  are  our  chief  informants. 
These  are  voices  that  speak  to  us  directly ;  the  rest  is  merely  commentary. 

In  a  work  like  this  present  collection  it  is  of  course  not  expected  of  me  to  be 
thorough,  or  in  any  way  to  explain  causes  and  results.  My  aim  is  to  give  color, 
and,  above  all,  life.  If  I  can  make  these  people  seem  as  real  to  others  as  they 
do  to  myself  I  shall  have  achieved  something  worth  the  effort.  It  is  to  this 
personal  element  in  history  that  I  have  largely  confined  myself.  Every  great 
event  is  equally  susceptible  of  this  kind  of  illustration,  only  it  would  take  very 
many  volumes  to  accomplish  the  task.  It  is  enough  for  the  present  to  have 
lifted  the  mask  from  the  kings  and  queens  and  from  such  prominent  personages 
as  the  Pretenders,  the  Marlboroughs,  the  Electress  of  Hanover,  the  wife  of 
George  I.  Naturally  my  work  is  elementary  :  I  can  only  give  specimens  from  a 
large  body  of  literatuie  full  of  its  own  interest  to  those  who  have  time  to  devote 
to  it. 


Preface  vii 

A  word  as  to  the  way  in  which  this  book  may  be  made  most  useful  to  the 
student :  I  should  suggest  that  he  be  given  a  topic  corresponding  to  the  heading  of 
one  of  my  thirty-two  groups  and  be  asked  to  make  an  abstract  of  its  salient  points 
from  his  text-book.  After  he  has  done  this,  and  added  some  supplementary  read- 
ing, I  should  consider  him  to  have  reached  a  frame  of  mind  most  suitable  for 
approaching  the  sources.  These  are  less  concentrated  and,  I  hope,  more  lively 
and  entertaining  than  the  majority  of  the  narratives.  Many  dim  facts  will  stand 
out  more  clearly  after  their  perusal.  All  acquisitions  to  the  knowledge  already 
gained  from  the  modern  authorities  should  be  carefully  noted  in  writing.  Riper 
scholars  can  subject  them  to  a  fire  of  criticism,  comparing  them  with  statements 
of  other  contemporary  authorities. 

It  may  not  be  out  of  place  here  to  summarize  the  results  likely  to  be  obtained 
from  the  perusal  of  one  or  two  of  the  groups.  Space  forbids  our  continuing  the 
analysis  through  all  the  topics,  but  the  table  of  contents  will  be  sufficiently 
extended  to  remedy  the  deficiency. 

In  Group  I.  we  start  out  with  the  personality  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  and  are 
fortunate  enough  to  have  an  account  of  her  at  the  time  of  her  accession  in  1558, 
when  she  was  already  full  blown  as  to  her  externals,  and  "for  her  internals, 
grown  ripe  and  seasoned  with  adversity."  We  next  find  her  addressing  the 
Parliament  on  the  all-important  subject  of  her  marriage,  and  shaking  at  them  a 
finger  on  which  gleams  the  ring  with  which  she  has  solemnly  espoused  herself  to 
the  kingdom.  When  she  dies  she  wishes  to  have  engraved  on  her  tomb,  "  Here 
lies  Elizabeth,  who  liv'd  and  died  a  maiden  Queen."  There  follow  a  series  of 
extremely  interesting  letters  sent  by  his  different  ambassadors  in  London,  Feria, 
Aquila  and  Quadra  to  Philip  II.  at  Madrid,  and  only  recently  published  from  the 
rich  archives  of  Simancas.  How  much  cunning  and  perseverance  was  wasted 
by  these  intriguing  priests ! — at  first  to  get  a  footing  in  the  palace  at  all,  and  then 
to  tempt  her  to  make  such  a  match  as  will  suit  Spain's  interest,  perhaps  Philip 
himself,— but  the  King  is  not  to  commit  himself.  "If  she  inclines  to  your 
Majesty,"  writes  Feria,  "  it  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  send  me  orders  whether 
I  am  to  carry  it  any  further  or  throw  cold  water  on  it  and  set  up  the  Archduke 
Ferdinand."  In  the  case  of  one  envoy  after  another  hope  gives  place  to 
despondency  and  the  post  is  given  up  ;  there  are  laments  that  this  queen  is  very 
different  from  "  Her  majesty  now  in  Heaven,"  and  a  final  cry  of  rage  from 
Feria  that  this  country  "  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  woman  who  is  a  daughter 
of  the  devil."  These  correspondents  have  much  to  say  about  Robert  Dudley, 
later  Earl  of  Leicester,  and  his  extreme  intimacy  with  the  Queen.  "  The 
Queen  told  me  that  Robert's  wife  was  dead,  or  nearly  so,"  writes  Quadra,  "  and 
asked  me  to  say  nothing  about  it.  Certainly  this  business  is  most  shameful  and 
scandalous;"  and  again,  "  Since  writing  the  above  I  hear  the  Queen  has  pub- 
lished the  death  of  Robert's  wife,"  and  said,  in  Italian,  "  She  broke  her  neck. 


viii  Preface 

She  must  have  fallen  down  a  staircase."  Philip  writes  to  Quadra  to  take 
advantage  of  Elizabeth's  love  for  Robert,  but  to  trust  to  nothing  that  she  does 
not  give  him  in  black  and  white.  In  a  strange  interview  with  the  loving  pair 
Quadra  promises  them  his  master's  support,  but  at  the  price  of  the  overthrow  of 
the  ministers  in  power.  Nothing  comes  of  the  matter,  but  Leicester  remains  in 
the  highest  favor  at  court  and  accompanies  the  Queen  in  her  different  progresses. 
We  see  her  at  Cambridge  and  Oxford,  turning  the  heads  of  all  the  doctors  and 
making  Latin  speeches  to  them  with  such  grace  and  modesty  that  the  "wildest 
cheers"  and  blessings  were  bestowed  upon  her.  "The  walls,  and  even  the 
windows  and  benches,"  writes  one  of  them,  "  seemed  to  resound  deafeningly 
with  the  voices  of  our  men."  The  group  ends  with  the  letter  of  a  French 
envoy,  Chateauneuf,  to  his  King,  written  in  1586,  and  giving  an  account  both  of 
the  Queen's  accomplishments  and  her  shortcomings.  The  Earl  of  Leicester  is 
still  in  high  favor,  indeed  "the  first  man  in  England  after  the  said  lady;"  but, 
alas  for  that  early  lover's  romance,  he  is  now  fifty-three  or  four  years  old  and  has 
"  grown  very  rotund." 

In  Group  II.  we  at  once  come  into  a  more  sombre  atmosphere,  and  find 
Elizabeth  signing  the  death  warrant  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots  and  maintaining 
stoutly  in  her  letters  to  Mary's  son,  James  of  Scotland,  that  she  cannot  "  keep 
the  serpent  that  poisons  her,"  or  make  herself  "  a  goodly  prey  for  every  wretch 
to  devour."  Old  Melville,  she  says,  "hath  years  enough  to  teach  him  more 
wisdom  than  tell  a  prince  of  any  judgment  such  a  contrarious,  frivolous,  maimed 
reason."  Then  we  enter  Fotheringay  castle  at  the  hand  of  Mary's  body  phy- 
sician, Bourgoing,  and  learn  of  the  first  intimation  to  her  that  she  must  die 
shortly.  She  was  in  bed  when  the  emissaries  appeared,  but  sent  word  that  if  it 
was  an  urgent  matter  she  would  rise  and  dress.  So  seated  in  a  chair  at  the  foot 
of  her  bed  she  waited  the  knell  of  doom,  and,  guilty  or  innocent,  made  a  most 
calm  and  heroic  rejoinder  to  the  formal  announcement.  A  letter  of  hers,  in  which 
she  tells  of  hearing  them  hammer  away  at  her  scaffold,  was  discovered  too  late 
to  be  inserted  in  this  collection.  She  arranges  her  affairs,  and  at  dead  of  night 
sits  down  and  writes  (No.  4)  to  her  brother-in-law,  Henry  III.  of  France, 
asking  his  good  offices  for  her  servitors.  "  As  for  my  son,  I  recommend  him  to 
you  according  to  his  merits,  for  I  can  not  answer  for  him."  By  command  of 
Lord  Burleigh,  Robert  Wingfield,  or  Wynkfield,  who  is  present,  writes  with  the 
utmost  detail  of  everything  that  happened  in  Mary's  last  hour ;  with  uncompuo- 
mising  realism  he  depicts  her  as  fat,  round-shouldered,  broadfaced,  double- 
chinned  and  with  false  auburn  hair.  But  he  then  goes  on  to  faithfully  describe 
one  of  the  most  touching  and  dignified  death  scenes  that  has  ever  been  chronicled 
in  the  whole  history  of  man.  As  she  walks  to  the  scaffold  her  faithful  Melville 
throws  himself  on  his  knees  and  asks  what  his  countrymen  will  say  when  he 
brings  them  this  fatal  news.       "  Carry  this  message  from  me,"  she  said,  "  that  I 


Preface  ix 


died  a  true  woman  to  my  religion  and  like  a  true  woman  of  Scotland  and 
France."  The  details  of  the  actual  execution  are  gruesome  enough — her  lips 
"  stirred  up  and  down  almost  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after  her  head  was  cut  off !  " 
This  is  almost  on  a  par  with  the  death  of  the  Earl  of  Argyle  in  1685,  whose 
headless  body,  "  by  the  great  commotion  and  agitation  of  the  animal  and  vital 
spirits,"  rose  up  and  had  to  be  pulled  down  by  the  attendants  (see  p.  164).  The 
letter  of  Elizabeth  to  James,  disavowing  her  share  in  the  execution,  seems  to 
have  been  designed  for  the  public  eye — it  is  not  in  keeping  with  those  that  went 
before.  The  messenger  who  bore  it  is  afraid  to  risk  being  murdered  by  the 
incensed  Scotch;  but  James  accepts  the  explanation  of  yon  unhappy  fact,  or 
will  accept  it  if  it  be  made  worth  his  while.  Nevertheless,  a  coolness  ensues 
which  is  ended  by  Elizabeth  (!)  declaring  that  she  "  is  willing  to  drink  most 
willingly  a  large  draught  of  the  river  of  Lethe."  Wilson  maintains  (No.  10) 
that  James's  own  emissary  had  persuaded  Elizabeth  to  sign  the  death  warrant, 
declaring  that  "  Mortua  non  mordet "  (when  she  is  dead  she  cannot  bite). 

In  Group  III.  we  are  introduced  to  Admiral  Howaid  and  Sir  Francis  Drake 
at  the  moment  of  the  first  reliable  intimation  of  the  sailing  of  the  Spanish 
Armada  in  1588.  The  whereabouts  and  strength  of  that  fleet  give  rise  to  the 
wildest  reports.  Drake  himself  writes  to  the  Queen  that  between  four  and  five 
hundred  ships  are  known  to  be  approaching.  He  wishes  to  meet  them  off  their 
own  coasts,  but  is  overruled,  and  doubtless  bears  his  disappointment  bravely, 
for  Howard  writes  to  Secretary  Walsingham,  "  Sir,  I  must  not  omit  to  let  you 
know  how  lovingly  and  kindly  Sir  Francis  Drake  bears  himself."  So  the  ships 
remain  in  the  channel,  and  are  forced  to  ride  out  some  terrific  gales,  during 
which,  however,  to  quote  Howard,  "we  may  compare  that  we  have  danced  as 
lustily  as  the  gallantest  dancers  at  Court."  In  order  that  the  Spaniards  may  not 
slip  by  unobserved  and  land  their  forces  on  the  English  shore  the  fleet  is  divided 
into  three  parts,  within  signalling  distance  of  each  other.  When  they  do  appear, 
one  hundred  and  twenty  sail  in  all,  Hjoward  manages  to  get  to  windward  of  them 
and  do  them  considerable  damage.  They  have  been  forced  so  far  to  leeward, 
writes  Drake,  "  as  I  hope  in  God,  the  Prince  of  Parma  and  the  Duke  of  Sidonia 
shall  not  shake  hands  this  few  days."  Three  other  engagements  take  place,  in 
the  last  of  which  the  Admiral,  about  twelve  of  the  clock  at  night,  sent  six  small 
ships  with  intrepid  crews  which  set  fire  to  and  then  abandoned  them  in  the  midst 
of  the  enemy's  great  hulks.  The  Spaniards  cut  their  anchors  and  fled  precipi- 
tately, but  one  great  galleass  went  ashore  off  Calais.  The  taking  of  this  is  most 
graphically  described  in  a  letter  of  a  Richard  Tomson  to  Secretary  Walsyngham 
(No.  6).  The  Spanish  fleet  suffers  terribly  from  storms  on  the  coasts  of  Ireland, 
and  the  Governor  of  Connaught  writes  to  the  Queen  of  the  extent  of  the  damage 
within  his  province  and  the  ruthless  butchery  of  those  unfortunates  who  swim 
ashore. 


x  Preface 

In  Group  IV.  we  follow  Queen  Elizabeth  through  her  declining  days. 
Bishop  Goodman  tells  how  in  this  same  year  of  the  Spanish  defeat,  when  he  him- 
self was  a  young  boy  residing  "  at  the  upper  end  of  the  strand,"  Elizabeth  came 
after  dark  to  the  Church  of  St.  Clement,  and  how  graciously  she  addressed  the 
people.  By  this  time,  alas,  she  was  growing  wrinkled  and  had  a  goggle  throat 
— a  great  gullet  hanging  out.  Goodman  mentions  a  report  that  "  the  ladies  had 
gotten  false  looking-glasses,  that  the  Queen  might  not  see  her  own  wrinkles." 
She  is  still  very  coy  with  her  coui-tiers,  and  Cary,  Earl  of  Monmouth  (No.  2), 
has  much  ado  in  making  her  forgive  him  for  having  committed  the  crime  of 
matrimony.  In  1598,  Paul  Hentzer,  a  cultivated  German  on  his  travels,  is 
admitted  to  kiss  her  hand  and  describes  the  genuflections  and  general  oriental 
ceremonial  at  her  court,  going  on  then  in  a  highly  entertaining  way  to  dilate  on 
the  general  peculiarities  of  the  Englishman  of  that  day.  While  he  is  with  the 
Queen,  W.  Slavata,  a  Bohemian  nobleman,  is  brought  in  and  presented,  the  same 
who  twenty  years  later  took  his  phenomenal  flight  from  the  window  of  the 
Prague  Castle  and  started  the  Thirty  Years'  War.  In  the  next  selection,  again 
from  Goodman,  we  find  the  aged  monarch  merrily  entertaining  Duke  Prussiano, 
a  "courteous  and  brave  nobleman";  and  the  bishop  goes  on  to  relate  how 
'*  then  did  the  Queen  dance  a  galliard  very  comely,  and  like  herself,  to  show  the 
vigour  of  her  old  age."  But  soon  after  the  clouds  begin  to  descend  on  all  sides. 
The  beloved  Essex  heads  a  conspiracy  and  is  imprisoned  ;  Thomas  Lea,  between 
nine  and  ten  at  night,  waits  in  the  Queen's  antechamber  meaning  to  seize  her 
person  and  make  her  sign  a  warrant  for  the  Earl's  release.  "  He  only  meant  to 
vex  her  for  half  an  hour,  that  she  might  live  the  merrier  all  her  life  after,"  but 
both  he  and  Essex  lose  their  heads.  All  this  preys  on  the  poor  old  lady's  mind, 
and  everything  seems  to  portend  her  ruin.  The  ring  of  espousal  to  the  kingdom 
has  grown  into  the  flesh  and  has  to  be  cut  in  two ;  she  cannot  fail  to  see  that  the 
eyes  of  all  are  turning  to  the  rising  sun ;  day  after  day  she  sits  in  deep  melan- 
choly, afraid  to  go  to  bed  lest  she  should  never  rise  again.  At  last  after  a  reign 
of  forty-four  years  she  "enjoys  a  blessed  remove  from  this  world  to  a  better," 
and  her  2,000  gowns,  worth  at  peddler's  prices  £100,000,  are  taken  to  Holland 
and  sold.  Her  successor,  not  altogether  unnaturally,  abhors  her  memory,  but  to 
the  people  she  is  always  good  Queen  Bess. 

E.  F.  HENDERSON. 
Redwood  Cottage,  Dublin,  N.  H., 
May  4,  1900. 


Table  of  Contents 


Page 

Group  I.     The  Personality  of  Queen  Elizabeth   .         .         .  1-9 

Her  appearance  and  comportment  at  the  time  of  her  accession — 
reasons  for  remaining  single— espousal  of  the  kingdom — reversal 
of  the  policy  of  Bloody  Mary — intrigues  of  the  Spanish  ambas- 
sador— his  interest  in  her  marriage — his  despair — the  love  affair 
with  Robert  Dudley — mysterious  death  of  Robert's  wife — Philip 
II.'s  favor  courted — a  scene  on  shipboard — a  visit  to  Cambridge 
— brilliant  reception — a  visit  to  Oxford — the  splendid  procession 
— the  Queen's  raiment — her  blushing  speech — the  deafening  ap- 
plause— the  sad  departure — further  characteristics  of  the  Queen 
— the  sequel  of  the  Leicester  romance. 

Group  II.     The  Execution  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots     .         .  9-18 

Elizabeth  induced  to  sign  her  death  warrant — the  necessity  of 
doing  so  explained  to  James  VI. — the  announcement  to  Mary — 
her  firmness — her  reply — her  protestations  of  innocence — loyalty 
to  her  religion — affecting  letter  to  her  brother-in-law — description 
of  her  person  and  attire — her  march  to  the  scaffold — farewell  to 
Melville — message  to  Scotland — her  calmness  and  cheerfulness — 
details  of  her  last  moments — disavowal  on  the  part  of  Elizabeth 
— correspondence  with  James  —  her  willingness  to  forget — 
James's  attitude. 

Group  III.     The  Spanish  Armada 18-25 

First  news  of  the  great  fleet — Spaniards  flying  English  flags — 
exaggerated  reports — Drake,  Hawkins  and  Frobisher  anxious  to 
sally  forth — storm — lusty  dancing — division  of  English  fleet  into 
three  parts — dread  of  sickness — working  to  windward — first  fight- 
ing— requests  for  powder  and  shot — chasing  the  Spaniards — the 
taking  of  the  great  galleass — the  despatch  of  the  fire-ships — the 
flight  of  the  Armada — the  pursuit — pestilential  sickness — destruc- 
tion of   Spanish  ships — massacre  of  survivors. 

Group  IV.     The  End  of  the  Reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth       .  26-33 

A  glimpse  of  the  Queen — her  graciousness — her  goggle  throat — 
wrinkles — the  looking-glass  story — displeasure  at  a  courtier  for 
marrying — his  pardon — arrival  of  a  traveler — his  reception — his 
description  of  the  Queen — elaborate  ceremonial — W.  Slavata — a 
visit  to  Windsor — the  order  of  the  Garter — shrewd  criticism  of 
the  English — the  Queen's  reception  of  Duke  Prussiano — she 
dances  at  seventy — the  treason  of  Essex — attempt  to  seize  the 
Queen' s  person — the  confession  of  Essex — declining  health — mel- 
ancholy state — aversion  to  physic — resolution  not  to  take  to  her 
bed — death — her  2,000  gowns. 


xii  Table  of  Contents 

Page 

Group  V.     Characteristic  Traits  of  James  I.  33_42 

Fondness  for  the  chase — a  French  envoy — the  question  of  mourn- 
ing— Sully's  retinue  change  their  apparel — a  royal  dinner — Eliza- 
beth's memory  slighted — James's  appearance — disgusting  habits 
— his  favorites — the  Queen — his  wit — his  diatribe  against  tobacco 
foolish  arguments — exorbitant  duty  placed  on  tobacco — medita- 
tions on  the  Lord's  Prayer — diatribe  against  all  who  do  not 
believe  in  witchcraft — approves  of  putting  witches  to  death — 
wives  and  children  to  be  heard  as  witnesses — law  against  sorcery 
— an  interview  with  a  subject — a  scurvy  jest  about  witches — 
James's  remarks  on  his  mother's  bloody  head — on  tobacco — 
Anne  of  Denmark's  funeral — James  more  like  a  wooer  than  a 
mourner — bathes  his  legs  in  stags'  bellies — peppers  the  Puritans. 

Group  VI.     The  Gunpowder  Plot      ......  43-47 

The  letter  to  Lord  Mounteagle — its  contents  studied — the  King's 
solution — a  search  ordered — the  apprehension  of  Guy  Fawkes — 
discovery  of  the  powder — the  rack — the  confession — account  of 
the  mine — intention  of  proclaiming  the  Lady  Elizabeth  queen. 

Group  VII.     The  Marriage  of    the    Princess   Elizabeth  to 

the  Count  Palatine  .......  47-54 

Arrival  of  the  Palsgrave — favorable  impression — illness  of  the 
heir  apparent — festivities  in  the  Palsgrave's  honor — the  prince's 
illness  grows  alarming — had  never  shed  his  teeth — application  of 
warm  birds — Sir  Walter  Raleigh  sends  him  a  cordial — his  death 
— the  wedding  postponed- — finally  celebrated — magnificent  dis- 
plays— masques — Lord  Bacon's  show — entreats  the  King  not  to 
"bury  them  quick  " — the  show  deferred — finally  takes  place — a 
slanderer  punished. 

Group  VIII.     The  Spanish  Marriage  Project  .         .         .  55~6o 

Prince  Charles's  Journey  to  Spain — his  progress — Jack  and  Tom 
— the  jewels — Charles's  arrival — running  at  the  ring — prisoners 
freed — a  sight  of  the  infanta — her  dowry — her  stiffness  at  inter- 
views— doubts  and  delays — the  Prince's  return — the  end  of  a 
delusion. 

Group  IX.     Charles  I.  and  Henrietta  Maria  of  France       .  61-66 

Encomiums  on  the  princess — the  marriage — from  London  Bridge 
to  Whitehall — the  twenty-nine  priests — Charles  no  convert — a 
queen's  frown — priestly  insolence — Charles's  heroic  interference 
— the  Queen  breaks  glass  windows — dismissal  of  the  French  reti- 
nue— the  last  of  a  rapacious  horde — the  reality  vs.  Van  Dyck's 
portraits. 

Group  X.     Parliamentary  Grievances  Against  Charles  I.    .  67-84 

Dissolution  of  Parliament  of  1625 — bitter  feelings — Parliament  of 
1626 — recriminations — commitment  of  members — dissolution — 
general  dejection — shifts  to  raise  money — hatred  of  Buckingham 
— parliament  of  1628 — stanch  upholding  of  liberties — passion- 
ate remonstrances— clamors  against  the  Duke  of  Buckingham — 


Table  of  Contents  xiii 


murder  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham — arbitrary  taxation — ship 
money — miseries  of  Ireland— trial  of  Strafford— his  magnificent 
defense — his  desertion  by  the  King — the  Five  Members — their 
flight — their  triumphant  return — the  eve  of  the  Civil  War. 

Group  XL     Trial  and  Execution  of  Charles  I.     .         .         .  85-92 

Disagreement  of  Lords  and  Commons — the  high  court  of  justice 
— the  charge — the  hearing — the  King's  attitude — the  sentence — 
indignities — the  last  hours — majestic  deportment — the  scene  on 
the  scaffold — the  death — Milton's  cynicism — general  horror  and 
grief — the  fate  of  the  hangman. 

Group  XII.     Characteristic  Traits  of  Oliver  Cromwell      .         92-103 

His  plain  apparel — stature — countenance — voice — conference — 
pillow-fight — violent  dissolution  of  the  Long  Parliament — the 
Instrument  of  Government — a  speech  to  Parliament — Parliament 
refractory — summary  coercion — a  purification — Cromwell  vs. 
Ludlow — objection  to  the  celebration  of  Christmas  Day — illness 
of  Cromwell — his  death — his  funeral. 

Group     XIII.       Specimens     of     Parliamentary     Proceedings 

UNDER   THE    COMMONWEALTH  ......  IO4-II5 

Discussions  on  vagrancy,  high-living,  etc. — Cromwell's  assent — 
the  case  of  James  Nayler,  a  Quaker — horrid  blasphemy — sug- 
gested punishments — the  sentence — Cromwell's  letter — agitated 
debates — question  of  jurisdiction — the  matter  dropped — the  title 
of  king — a  Sabbath  bill — a  bill  against  profane  and  idle  sitting. 

Group  XIV.     The  Return  and  Coronation  of  Charles  II.  .       1 15-124 

Harbingers  of  the  Restoration — General  Monk — dissolution  of 
the  Rump  Parliament — Parliament  and  the  King — the  King's 
declaration — his  poverty — joyous  anticipation — Pepysand  Charles 
on  shipboard— the  King's  account  of  his  adventures — the  land- 
ing— entry  into  London — civic  festivities — the  fate  of  the  Regicides 
— the  glories  of  Coronation  Day — general  rejoicings. 

Group  XV.     The  Plague  of  London 1 24-131 

Beginnings  of  the  plague — gradual  increase — a  stricken  maid — 
sad  sights — the  question  of  periwigs — frightful  mortality — a 
private  letter — the  crisis  passed — the  reawakening  of  London — 
comical  incidents. 

Group  XVI.     The  Fire  of  London i3I_I42 

First  observed— Pepys's  activity— Pepys  and  the  King— pulling 
down  houses — removal  of  goods — enormous  extent  of  the  flames 
— Evelyn's  experiences — eloquent  description  of  the  scene — 
Pepys  buries  his  treasures — curious  sights — the  ruins  of  St.  Paul's 
— a  walk  through  the  city. 


xiv  Table  of  Contents 

Page 

Group  XVII.     The  Court  of  Charles  II.  ....       142-157 

Revels  and  license  at  court — the  arrival  of  the  Queen — her  ugly 
ladies — the  Queen  and  Lady  Castlemaine — general  discontent — 
levity  of  courtiers — the  pursuit  of  pleasure  during  the  plague  and 
fire — the  court  lies  abed — new  fashions  of  dress — cruel  amuse- 
ments— shutting  up  the  Exchequer — a  fire-eater — The  Duke  of 
York's  apostasy — gay  toilets — a  jockey  dinner — Miss  Jennings — 
a  raid  on  Prince  Rupert's  laboratory — squabbling  ladies — Prince 
George  of  Denmark — Charles's  death-bed — a  priest  in  disguise — 
death  and  funeral — characteristics  of  Charles — death  of  Pepys. 

Group  XVIII.     Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth     .         .       158-170 

Early  relations  oi  Monmouth  and  James  II. — the  bill  for  exclud- 
ing James — Monmouth's  share  in  the  Rye  House  Plot — his  letter 
of  submission — his  equivocal  conduct — his  banishment — the 
change  of  ruler — proclamation  of  James  II. — his  protestations 
regarding  religion — the  coronation — Argyle  in  Scotland — his 
weak  conduct — his  executior — gruesome  details — Monmouth's 
landing — a  fugitive  mayor — Monmouth's  declaration — a  haughty 
answer  from  Albemarle — the  course  of  hostilities — Monmouth's 
capture — his  prayers  for  mercy — horrible  execution. 

Group  XIX.     The  Arbitrary  Rule  of  James  II.      .         .         .        170-1S0 

Description  of  the  King  by  a  partisan — James's  Memoirs — pious 
observances — contrast  to  Charles  II. — the  standing  army — the 
repeal  of  the  test  acts — the  King's  treatment  of  his  parliament — 
insolence  of  Popish  party — severity  towards  the  rebels — Kirk's 
cruelties — Jeffries  on  the  western  circuit — his  characteristics — the 
case  of  Mr.  Tutchin — a  righteous  retribution — increase  of  Papists 
— the  arrest  of  the  seven  bishops — birth  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
— trial  of  the  seven  bishops — dread  of  invasion. 

Group  XX.     The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary      .      ,  .         .        1 81-192 

Confidence  of  the  Dutch  in  William — alarm  of  the  King  and 
court — apathy  of  the  common  people — the  sailing  of  the  Prince's 
fleet — Bishop  Burnet — the  storm — the  return — the  landing. — the 
Prince  at  Exeter — the  King  loses  heart — the  garrison  of  York — 
treatment  of  Reresby — Prince  George  and  Princess  Anne  aban- 
don James — Lord  Dartmouth's  urgent  advice — disturbances  in 
London — Lord  Dartmouth's  consternation — the  King's  flight — 
his  attempt  at  self-justification — declared  to  have  abdicated — the  / 
Prince  and  Princess  declared  sovereigns — the  oaths  of  allegiance 
— the  Queen's  unseemly  levity — Bishop  Burnet's  palliation  of  it. 

Group  XXI.     The  Stuarts  in  Exile 192-205 

French  versions  of  the  events  of  the  Revolution — arrival  of  the 
Queen — her  reception  by  Louis  XIV. — distinguished  honors — 
rich  gifts — arrival  of  James  II. — the  French  King's  bounties — 
Questions  of  etiquette — the  Queen's  popularity — questions  of 
precedence — the  King  resigned  to  his  fate — thanks  God  for  his 
chastenings — his  departure  for  Ireland — generosity  of  Louis  XIV. 
— the  battle  on  the  Boyne — Mat  Prior  and  "  old  James  " — death 


Table  of  Contents  xv 


of  James  II.— recognition  of  his  son  by  Louis  XIV. ^-the  old 
Pretender  solicits  Queen  Anne — an  ardent  Jacobite — the  Pre- 
tender's farewell  to  France — a  Quaker's  generosity — amusing 
experiences  of  an  English  traveler— the  young  Pretender' s»hand 
kissed — shall  the  young  Pretender  come  to  Boston  ? 

Group  XXII.     Characteristic  Traits  of  William  and  Mary        205-214 

Youth  and  education  of  William— Monsieur  Bentinck — marriage 
of  William  and  Mary — Bishop  Burnet's  description  of  their 
characters — the  question  of  William's  future  position  in  Eng- 
land— William's  ill  health  and  gravity  of  disposition — prejudices 
against  him — the  Queen's  illness — her  death — grief  of  William — 
the  treaty  of  Ryswick — William's  illness  and  death. 

Editorial.     The  Spanish  Succession  War         ....       214-217 

Group  XXIII.     Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs       .         .       217-227 

Peculiar  ways  of  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough — affectionate  let- 
ters to  her  from  "  Mrs.  Morley  " — rejoicings  at  the  battle  of  Blen- 
heim— Bishop  Burnet's  wife  in  praise  of  Marlborough — Marl- 
borough made  a  prince  of  the  Empire — Marlborough's  alarm  at 
the  influences  brought  to  bear  on  the  Queen — the  Queen's  affec- 
tion for  the  Marlboroughs — discordant  notes — letter  of  the  Duch- 
ess against  Mrs.  Masham — a  stormy  interview  with  the  Queen — 
the  enemies  of  Marlborough — Swift's  attitude — Prince  Eugene 
in  London — measures  against  Marlborough — mob  insults — the 
Marlboroughs  leave  England  —  ill-natured  sketch  of  the  Queen 
by  the  Duchess — letter  of  the  Duchess  thirty  years  later. 

Group  XXIV.     The  Hanoverian  Succession      ....       228-237 

Arrangements  for  the  ill-fated  marriage  of  George  I. — a  merce- 
nary spirit  at  the  court  of  Osnabruck — the  acquisition  of  Hanover 
— amusing  description  of  the  palace — proceedings  in  the  English 
Parliament  regarding  the  Succession — the  death  of  the  Duke  of 
Gloucester — sentiments  of  the  Hanoverian  court — a  prophecy  as 
to  the  steps  that  Parliament  will  take — the  prophecy  comes  true 
— shall  a  member  of  the  House  of  Hanover  take  up  his  abode  in 
England? — Leibnitz  in  favor  of  insisting — false  alarms  as  to  the 
Queen's  death — sharp  letter  of  Queen  Anne  to  the  Elector  George 
— the  Electress's  vexation — her  death. 

Group  XXV.     George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden    .         .       237-244 

Marriage  of  George  and  Sophia  Dorothea — Konigsmark — ill- 
treatment  of  Sophia  Dorothea — the  Countess  Platen — scene  in 
the  Opera  House — disappearance  of  Konigsmark — proceedings 
for  divorce — a  hearing  before  the  ministers — the  Princess  in  cap- 
tivity— last  hours  of  Queen  Anne — George  I.  proclaimed  King — 
his  petty  character — influence  of  the  Duchess  of  Kendall — sub- 
serviency of  the  ministers — George  I.  and  the  English — Horace 
Walpole's  account  of  the  finding  of  Konigsmark' s  body — 
George  II.  and  his  mother. 


xvi  Table  of  Contents 

Page 

Group  XXVI.     King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline     .         .       244-253 

The  coronation—  borrowed  finery — the  Queen's  influence  over 
her  husband — her  patient  endurance  of  him — Robert  Walpole 
and  the  Queen — George's  absence  in  Hanover — his  English  an- 
tipathies— discontent  of  the  people — pasquinades — the  quarrel 
with  Prince  Frederick — strong  language  of  the  Queen — illness  of 
the  Queen — medical  methods — the  King's  anxiety — petty  out- 
bursts— the  Queen's  death — the  King's  real  grief — characteristics 
of  Caroline — characteristics  of  George — his  peculiar  habits. 

Editorial.     The  Seven  Years'  War 253—255 

Group  XXVII.     The  Accession  of  George  III.  .         .         .       255-265 

George  III.  as  a  youth — his  indolence — his  gloomy  disposition — 
character  of  Lord  Bute — his  influence  over  the  princess  dowager 
— his  rise  into  power — character  of  Pitt — his  eloquence — his 
popularity — his  general  influence — change  of  policy  at  George's 
accession — Pitt  and  Bute — project  of  marriage — Lady  Sarah 
Lennox — the  Princess  of  Mecklenburg — tu  vas  etre  Reine 
d'  Angleterre — the  wedding  service — the  landing  in  England — 
Spanish  insolence — the  quarrel  with  Pitt — Pitt's  resignation — 
popular  clamor — Bute's  relinquishment  of  conquests — a  scathing 
satire. 

Group  XXVIII.     William  Pitt   and    the   American   War   of 

Independence       266-272 

Denunciation  of  the  tea-tax — praise  of  Americans — defense  of 
property  rights — the  spirit  of  Whiggism — exhortation  to  repeal 
the  tax — to  stop  the  war — a  speech  from  the  throne — England's 
ignominious  position — you  can  not  conquer  America — disgrace- 
ful happenings — Bourgoyne's  surrender — the  Hessian  soldiers — 
the  employment  of  Indians — hell-hounds  of  savage  war — the 
last  speech — affecting  eloquence — the  death  stroke. 

Group  XXIX.     George  III.  and  his  Heir  Apparent         .         .       272-283 

George  IV.'  ^untruthfulness — his  extravagances  and  debauch- 
eries— his  debts — his  club  life — the  King's  illness — his  disordered 
mind — the  rising  sun — severe  medical  treatment — the  struggle  for 
authority — heartless  conduct — the  King  is  shaved — Dr.  Willis — 
Pitt — the  King's  symptoms — the  question  of  regency — partisan 
physicians — the  Duchess  of  Gordon — an  adventure  with  a  maniac 
— signs  of  betterment — Miss  Burney  frightened — the  Regency 
Bill  put  off — the  King  rapidly  recovers — regency  caps — acrimony 
of  parties — the  ball  at  Brookes' s — the  King's  experiences  while 
in  bathing. 

Group  XXX.     The  Death  of  Nelson         .....       2S4-290 

False  news  about  the  French  fleet — Nelson' s  impatience  at  Merton 
— Nelson  himself  again — his  care  for  the  new  signal-code — the 
Nelson  touch — news  of  the  victory — experiences  on  board  the 
Victory — England  expects  every  man  will  do  his  duty — details  of 
the  conflict — at  close  quarters — Nelson's  wound — in  the  cock-pit 


Table  of  Contents  xvii 

page 

— affecting  interview  with  Hardy — death  in  the  arms  of  victory 
— the  first  wording  of  the  signal. 

Group  XXXI.     The  Battle  of  Waterloo         ....       291-297 

Wellington's  exultation — Blucher  to  his  wife — embraces  Welling- 
ton— Blucher' s  account  of  Napoleon's  escape — details  of  the  battle 
by  an  officer  of  the  guards — Wellington  the  genius  of  the  storm — 
his  dress — the  last  onslaught — a  pleasant  interlude  with  the  Prus- 
sians— a  young  officer's  experiences — Gneisenau's  point  of  view 
— Napoleon's  diamonds — the  greatness  of  the  victory — heavy 
losses — the  question  of  executing  Napoleon — decided  by  Wel- 
lington— Gneisenau'  s  disappointment. 

• 
Group  XXXII.     An    American    Minister    at    the    Court    of 

London         ..........       297-300 

The  charming  old  Queen — the  glories  of  the  plumes  and  crino- 
lines— British  beauty — an  evening  with  the  royal  family — strange 
appeal  to  trial  by  combat  in  an  English  nineteenth  century  court 
of  law. 


List    of   Illustrations 


Prince  Albert.     Engraved  from  the  painting  by  Partridge 
Anne  of  Denmark,  wife  of  James  I.     Engraved  by  Houbraken 
An  Ally  ok  Queen  Anne.     Engraved  by  Schenck     . 

Queen  Anne.     Engraved  by  J.  Smith 

Augustus  the  Strong  of  Saxony.     Engraved  by  R.  White  in  1697 

Blucher.     Engraved  in  181 5 

Heads    of    Blucher    and    Wellington.     From    Booth's    Battle    of 

Waterloo         ........... 

George    Villiers,  Duke   of    Buckingham.     Anon.     From  Van  der 

Werft's  painting     .  .  .  .  .  . 

Rebus  on  Bute.     Contemporary 

Queen  Caroline.     Contemporary        ....... 

Catherine    of    Braganza,    wife    of    Charles    II.       Engraved    by 

Melaer  ............ 

Charles  I.     Engraved  by  Beckett  from  a  painting  by  Van  Dyck 
Charles  I.,  with  Charles  II.     Anon.     From  Van  Dyck's  painting 
The    Children    ok    Charles    I.     Modern  engraving  of    Van    Dyck's 

painting  ........... 

Charles  II.      Engraved  by  Brown  in  1678  from  Sir  Peter  Lely's  painting 

Charles  II.  of  Spain 

Charles  III.  of  Spain  (afterwards  Emperor  Charles  VI.).     Engraved 

by  Weigel       ........... 

The  Emperor  Charles  VII.     Engraved  by  Pfeffel     . 
Charles  XII.  of  Sweden.     Engraved  by  Schenck       . 
Queen  Charlotte.     Engraved  by  the  Ryders  in  1804  from  the  paint- 
ing by  Beechey       .  .  .  .  ... 

Oliver  Cromwell.     Engraved  by  Mazot  (double  page) 

Oliver  Cromwell.      Probably  by  Schurtz  ...... 

The  Empress  Elizabeth  of  Russia.     Engraved  by  Stenglin     . 
Queen  Elizabeth.     Engraved  by  Greatbach  from  an  original  painting 
Elizabeth    of    Bohemia.     Engraved    by    Delph    from    a    painting   of 

Miereveld's  in  1623  ........ 

Prince  Eugene.     Engraved  by  Vogel  ..... 

The  Emperor  Francis  I.     Engraved  by  Ph.  A.  Kilian 
Frederick  the  First,  King  of  Prussia.     Engraved  by  Weigel 
Frederick  the  Great.     Engraved  by  Schleuen 
Frederick  the  Great  and  Peter  III.  making  peace     . 
Frederick,  Count  Palatine.     Engraved  by  Delph  from  a  painting  of 

Miereveld's  in  1622 


Page 
3OO 

35 
219 
226 

217 
293 

291 

73 

265 
246 

«43 

61 

64 

37 
120 
214 

216 
249 


277 

92 

104 

254 


5i 
224 

253 
213 

253 
256 

48 


XX 


List   of   Illustrations 


al  by 


spro 


V 


anl 


George  I.     Engraved  in  17 14 

George  II.     Anon 

George  II.     Engraved  by  Pfeffel  .  .  .  .  . 

George  III.  as  Prince  of  Wales.     Engraved  by  McArdell 
George  III.     Engraved  by  Benj.  Smith  in   1804  from  the  painting  by 

Beechey  ........ 

George  IV.     Anon 

Gneisenau.     Engraved  by  Carl  Mayer 
Henrietta  Maria.     Engraved  by  Schurtz  in  1629 

James  I.     Print  of  1604  A.  D 

King   James    and    his    Family.     Later   working   over  of    origin 

Crispin  de  Passe     ........ 

James  II.     Anon,  contemporary  ...... 

James  III.  (the  Pretender).     Engraved  by  Thomassin  in  1702 
The  Seizure  of  Judge  Jeffries  by   the   People.     Modern 

duction  of  old  print  ....... 

The  Emperor  Joseph  I.    ...... 

Leibnitz.     Engraved  by  Ficquet  .  .  , 

The  Earl  of  Leicester.     Anon,  contemporary 
The  Emperor  Leopold.     Engraved  by  le  Poutre 
Louis  XIV.     Engraved  by  George  Kilian      .... 

Louis  XV.  of  France.     Engraved  by  Petit  from  the  painting  by 
Louis  William  of  Baden.     Engraved  by  C.  Heiss     . 
The  Empress  Maria  Theresia.     Engraved  by  Pfeffel 
The  Duchess  of  Marlborough.     Engraved  by  J.  Smith 
The  Duke  of  Marlborough.     Engraved  by  Valk     . 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots.     Engraved  by  Golz  about  1587 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots.     Engraved  by  J.  West 
Queen  Mary.     Anon,  contemporary  ..... 

Queen  Mary  Beatrix.     Anon,  contemporary    . 
Maximilian  Emmanuel  of  Bavaria.     Anon.    . 
James  Duke  of  Monmouth.     Engraved  by  Picart  in  1724 
Napoleon  before  the  Battle  of  Waterloo.     Engraved  fr 

picture  by  Goubaud  painted,  during  the  hundred  days 
Napoleon  on  the  Island   of   St.  Helena.     From  a  lithograph  of 

Horace  Vernet's  painting         ..... 

Nelson.     Engraved  in  Italy  in  1799      .... 

The  Death  of  Nelson      ...... 

Peter  the  Great.     Engraved  by  J.  Smith  in  1697     . 

William  Pitt.     Anon 

Philip  II.     Anon.     Most  probably  contemporary 

Philip  V.  of  Spain.     Engraved  by  Hafner 

An  illustrated  news-leaf,  contemporary,  concerning 

ishment  of  the  regicides  .... 

Prince  Rupert.     Anon.      ...... 

Slavata.     Anon,  contemporary  ..... 

The  Electress  Sophia.     Engraved  by  Schenck  in  1710 


To  Face  Page 
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257 

272 
274 

295 
62 
40 

33 
162 
199 

178 
216 
230 
6 
214 
197 

25* 
216 

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222 

Frontispiece 

9 

191 

T93 
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*59 


om  the 


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List    of   Illustrations  xxi 

To  Face  Page 

Sophie   Charlotte,    Electress   of   Brandenburg.      Engraved    by 

Hainzelmann  in  1689      .........  239 

Sophia  Dorothea,  Daughter  of  George  I.     Engraved  by  J.  Smith 

in  1715 243 

Thomas    Earl    of   Strafford.       Engraved  by  R.  White    from    Van 

Dyck's  painting       ..........  79 

The  Tea- Tax  Tempest.     An  Allegorical  representation      .          .          .  270 

Wellington.     Engraved  by  Fielker  from  Beechey's  painting         .          .  292 

William  of  Orange  as  a  Boy.     Engraved  by  Crispin  van  Quebooren  205 

William  and  Mary.     Anon 208 

William  of  Orange  (King  William  III.).  Engraved  by  Jean  Verkalje  181 
Prince  William  Henry  (Later  William  IV.).     Engraved  by  Barto- 

lozzi  from  a  painting  by  West          .......  298 

King  William  IV.     Anon. 300 

Queen  Victoria.     Anon,  (about  1840) 300 

The   Christening   of   the    Prince   of   Wales.     Caricatures  drawn 

in  1841 300 


qUEEN    ELIZABETH. 
(Engraved  by  Greatbach  from  the  original  by  N.  Hilliard.) 


SIDE    LIGHTS 


ENGLISH     HISTORY 


GROUP  I. 

THE    PERSONALITY    OF    QUEEN    ELIZABETH. 


I.  Extract  from  Sir  Robert  Naun- 
ton,  "  Fragmenta  Regalia."  (Printed 
together  with  Cary's  Memoirs.  Edin- 
burgh, 1808.) 

.  .  .  Her  destiny  had  decreed  to  set 
her  (Elizabeth)  an  apprentice  in  the 
school  of  affliction,  and  to  draw  her 
through  the  ordeal  fire  of  trial,  the 
better  to  mould  and  fashion  her  to  rule 
and  sovereignty :  which  finished,  and 
Fortune  calling  to  mind  that  the  time 
of  her  servitude  was  expired,  .  .  .  de- 
livered up  into  her  custody  a  sceptre, 
as  a  reward  for  her  patience,  which 
was  about  the  twenty-sixth  year  of  her 
age — a  time  in  which  (as  for  externals) 
she  was  full-blown  ;  so  was  she  for  her 
internals  grown  ripe  and  seasoned  with 
adversity,  and  in  the  exercise  of  her 
virtue.   .   .   . 

She  was  of  personage  tall,  of  hair 
and  complexion  fair,  and  therewith 
.  well-favored,  but  high-nosed,  of  limbs 
and  feature  neat,  and,  which  added  to 
the  lustre  of  these  exterior  graces,  of 
stately  and  majestic  comportment,  par- 
ticipating in  this  more  of  her  father 
than  mother,  who  was  of  an  inferior 
allay    [alloy?],    plausible,    or,    as    the 


French  hath  it,  more  debonaire,  and 
affable  virtues  which  might  well  suite 
with  majesty,  and  which  descending, 
as  hereditary  to  the  daughter,  did  ren- 
der her  of  a  more  sweeter  temper,  and 
endeared  her  more  to  the  love  and  lik- 
ing of  the  people,  who  gave  her  the 
name  and  fame  of  a  most  gracious 
and  popular  Prince;  the  atrocity  of 
her  father's  nature  being  rebated  in 
hers,  by  the  mother's  sweeter  inclina- 
tions.  .   .   . 


2.  Answer  of  Elizabeth  to  the  Speak- 
er of  the  House  of  Commons,  1559. 
(In  Camden,  Life  and  Reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth.  Originally  in  Latin.)  The 
Speaker  had  begged  her,  in  the  name 
of  the  Parliament,  to  "accept  some 
match  capable  of  supplying  heirs  to 
your  royal  virtues  and  dominions." 

.  .  .  "  I  have  made  choice  of  such  a 
state  as  is  freest  from  the  incumbrance 
of  secular  pursuits  and  gives  me  the 
most  leisure  for  the  service  of  God : 
and  could  the  applications  of  the  most 
potent  princes,  or  the  very  hazard  of 
my  life,  have  diverted  me  from  this 
purpose,  I  had  long  ago  worn  the  hon- 


Elizabeth 


ors  of  a  bride.  These  were  my  senti- 
ments when  I  was  but  a  private  per- 
son ;  but  now  that  the  care  and  weight 
of  a  kingdom  lies  upon  my  shoulders, 
to  add  to  these  the  incumbrance  of  the 
married  state  would  be  no  point  of  dis- 
cretion in  me  :  But  that  I  may  give  you 
the  best  satisfaction  I  can,  I  have  long 
since  made  choice  of  a  husband,  the 
Kingdom  of  England.  And  here," 
continues  she,  "is  the  pledge  and  em- 
blem of  my  marriage  contract,  which 
I  wonder  you  should  so  soon  have  for- 
got." With  that  she  shewed  them  her 
finger  with  the  same  gold  ring  upon  it 
with  which  she  had  solemnly  and  form- 
ally betrothed  herself  to  the  Kingdom 
at  her  inauguration.  After  she  had 
paused  a  little,  "I  beseech  you,"  said 
she,  "gentlemen,  charge  me  not  with 
the  want  of  children,  for  as  much 
as  every  one  of  you,  and  every  Eng- 
lishman besides,  are  my  children  and 
relations.  .  .  .  Should  it  be  my  lot 
to  continue  as  I  am,  a  Virgin  Queen, 
I  doubt  not  but  the  providence  of  God, 
seconded  by  your  counsels  and  my  own 
measures,  will  so  dispose  matters  as  to 
put  the  question  of  a  successor  out  of 
all  debate.  .  .  .  For  my  own  part,  I 
desire  no  better  character  nor  fairer 
remembrance  of  me  to  posterity  than 
to  have  this  inscription  on  my  tomb 
when  I  come  to  pay  my  last  debt  to 
nature  :  '  Here  lies  Elizabeth,  who  liv'd 
and  died  a  Maiden-Queen.'  " 


3.  Correspondence  of  Spanish  En- 
voys in  London  with  Philip  II.  (From 
State  Papers;   Spanish  Series.) 

Ferict  to  Philip  II. 

Dec.  14,  1558. 

...  It  gives  me  great  trouble  every 

time  I  write  to  your  Majesty  not  to  be 

able  to  send  more  pleasing  intelligence, 

but  what  can  be  expected  from  a  country 


governed  by  a  Queen,  and  she  a  young 
lass,  who,  although  sharp  is  without 
prudence,  and  is  every  day  standing  up 
against  religion  more  openly?  The 
kingdom  is  entirely  in  the  hands  of 
young  folks,  heretics  and  traitors,  and 
the  Queen  does  not  favor  a  single  man 
whom  her  Majesty,  who  is  now  in 
Heaven,  would  have  received,  and  will 
take  no  one  into  her  service  who  served 
her  sister  when  she  was  Lady  M*.ry. 
On  her  way  from  the  Tower  to  her  house 
where  she  now  is,  she  saw  the  Marquis 
of  Northampton,  who  is  ill  with  a 
quartan  ague,  at  a  window,  and  she 
stopped  her  palfrey  and  was  for  a  long 
while  asking  him  about  his  health  in 
the  most  cordial  way  in  the  world. 
The  only  true  reason  for  this  was  that 
he  had  been  a  great  traitor  to  her  sister. 
.  .  .  She  seems  to  me  incompai'ably 
more  feared  than  her  sister,  and  gives 
her  orders  and  has  her  way  as  abso- 
lutely as  her  father  did.  ...  I  am 
trying  to  get  a  chamber  in  the  palace 
when  she  goes  to  Whitehall,  although 
I  am  very  much  afraid  they  will  not 
give  me  one ;  .  .  .  they  are  so  suspi- 
cious of  me  that  not  a  man  amongst 
them  dares  to  speak  of  me.  .  .  .  They 
are  all  very  glad  to  be  free  of  your 
Majesty,  as  if  you  had  done  harm  instead 
of  very  much  good.  .  .  .  Truly  they 
run  away  from  me  as  if  I  were  the 
Devil.  The  best  thing  will  be  to  get 
my  foot  into  the  palace,  so  as  to  speak 
oftener  to  the  Queen,  as  she  is  a  woman 
who  is  very  fond  of  argument.  Every- 
body thinks  that  she  will  not  marry  a 
foreigner  and  they  cannot  make  out 
whom  she  favours,  so  that  nearly  every 
day  some  new  cry  is  raised  about  a  hus- 
band. .  .  .  The  most  discreet  people 
fear  she  will  marry  for  caprice.  .  .  . 
I  do  not  know  which  way  the  Queen 
is  inclined,  for  on  the  one  hand  she 
complained  to  me  of  her  sister's  having 
married  a  foreigner,  and  on  the  other 


A  tan 


PHILIPPVS  H.D.G.HISPANIARVM 
ET   INDIARVM    REX    CATOLICVS, 
ARCHIDVX    AVSTRIA. 


LC 


Elizabeth 


I  see  she  is  very  vain  and  as  much  set 
against  her  sister  as  she  was  previous 
to  her  death.  I  fancy  I  can  get  at  her 
through  this  feeling  :  .  .  .  we  must  tell 
her  that  one  of  the  reasons  the  Queen, 
now  in  heaven,  disliked  her  was  her 
fear  that  if  she  died  your  Majesty  would 
marry  her  (Elizabeth).  ...  If  she 
inclines  to  your  Majesty  it  will  be  neces- 
sary for  you  to  send  me  orders  whether 
I  am  to  carry  it  any  further  or  throw 
cold  water  on  it  and  set  up  the  Arch- 
duke Ferdinand.  .  .  .  When  I  left  on 
that  day  I  sent  her  by  the  Admiral's 
wife  the  two  rings  that  your  Majesty 
gave  me  which  belonged  to  the  late 
Queen,  because  as  I  saw  she  was  so 
fond  of  her  jewels  I  thought  best  to 
give  her  up  even  the  poorest  of  them. 
...  I  told  her  about  the  jewels  which 
were  in  the  box  at  Whitehall  and  said 
I  would  give  her  the  key  when  I  came. 
She  accepted.  I  have  heard  also  that 
the  Queen,  now  in  heaven,  ordered  in 
her  will  that  the  jewels  given  to  her  by; 
your  Majesty  and  the  Emperor  should 
be  returned  to  you,  and  these  people 
had  concealed  this  and  kept  the  jewels. 
Seeing  this  I  thought  best  to  say  that 
your  Majesty  would  be  very  pleased  for 
her  to  have  them  if  she  wanted  them. 
.  .  .  She  is  very  fond  of  having  things 
given  to  her,  and  her  one  theme  is  how 
poor  she  is.  .  .  .  Both  times  I  have 
spoken  with  her  have  been  in  the  pres- 
ence chamber  crammed  with  people, 
and  what  with  this  and  all  these  gifts, 
I  think  I  never  saw  her  so  carried  away 
as  she  was  to-day. 

April  ii,  1559. 
.  .  .  After  she  had  finished  with  the 
Portuguese,  she  called  me  to  her  and 
asked  whether  I  had  letters  from  your 
Majesty.  I  told  her  yes,  and  that  on 
the  next  day  I  would  give  her  any 
information  she  wanted  about  them, 
but  .that  I  could  not  do  so  then,  as  I 
was  so  angry  with  her  and  so  annoyed. 


She  .  .  .  began  to  say  she  had  heard 
your  Majesty  was  married,  smiling, 
saying  your  name  was  a  fortunate  one, 
and  now  and  then  giving  little  sighs 
which  bordered  upon  laughter.  I  told 
her  ...  I  could  not  rejoice  to  see  your 
Majesty  married  to  any  one  else  but 
her.  .  .  .  To  this  she  retorted  that  it 
was  your  Majesty's  fault  it  had  fallen 
through  and  not  hers.  .  .  .  She  .  .  . 
afterwards  went  on  to  say  that  your 
Majesty  could  not  have  been  so  much 
in  love  with  her  as  I  had  said,  as  you 
had  not  had  patience  to  wait  four 
months  for  her,  and  many  things  of  the 
same  sort,  as  if  she  was  not  at  all 
pleased  at  the  decision  adopted  by  your 
Majesty.   ... 

May  10th. 
What  can  be  said  here  to  your 
Majesty  is  only  that  this  country,  after 
thirty  years  of  a  government  such  as 
your  Majesty  knows,  has  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  a  woman  who  is  a  daughter 
~'di  tr\£i>t)evil,  and  the  greatest  scoundrels 
and  heretics  in  the  land.  (Exit  Feria, 
Ed.] 

Bishop  of  Aquila  to  Philip. 

May  30th. 
.  .  .  We  [the  queen  and  the  bishop] 
continued  at  this  for  some  time  wasting 
words,  and  at  last  she  said  she  was  re- 
solved not  to  marry  except  to  a  man  of 
worth  whom  she  had  seen  and  spoken 
to,  and  she  asked  whether  I  thought  the 
Archduke  Charles  would  come  to  this 
country  that  she  might  see  him.  ...  I 
do  not  know  whether  she  is  jesting, 
which  is  quite  possible,  but  I  really  be- 
lieve she  would  like  to  arrange  for  this 
visit  in  disguise.  I  turned  it  to  a  joke. 
.  .  .  Robert  [Dudley]  is  as  highly  fav- 
ored as  usual.  .  .  .  I  am  not  sure  about 
her  for  I  do  not  understand  her. 
Amongst  other  qualities  which  she  says 
her  husband  must  possess  is,  that  he 
should  not  sit  at  home  all  day  amongst 


Elizabeth 


the  cinders,  but  should  in  time  of  peace 
keep  himself  employed  in  warlike  ex- 
ercises. 

July  27th. 
I  have  lost  all  hopes  in  the  affairs  of 
this  woman.  She  is  convinced  of  the 
soundness  of  her  unstable  power,  and 
will  only  see  her  error  when  she  is  ir- 
retrievably lost.  In  religious  matters 
she  has  been  saturated  ever  since  she 
was  born  in  a  bitter  hatred  to  our  faith, 
and  her  one  object  is  to  destroy  it.  If 
your  Majesty  were  to  give  her  life  and 
all  in  it,  as  you  did  once  before,  she 
would  never  be  more  friendly  than  she 
is  now,  and  she  would,  if  she  had  the 
power,  sow  heresy  broadcast  in  all  your 
Majesty's  dominions  to-day,  and  set 
them  ablaze  without  compunction. 
Besides  this  her  language  (learnt  from 
Italian  heretic  friars  who  brought  her 
up)  is  so  shifty  that  it  is  the  most  diffi- 
cult thing  in  the  world  to  negotiate  with 
her.  With  her  all  is  falseness  and 
vanity.      [Exit  Aquila. — Ed.] 

Bishop  Quadra  to  the  Duchess  of 
Parma. 

London,  Sept.  II,  1560. 
Since  writing,  news  of  importance  is 
current  here  which  I  convey  to  your 
Highness.  .  .  .  She  (the  Queen)  had 
promised  me  an  answer  about  the  mar- 
riage by  the  third  instant,  and  said  she 
was  certain  to  marry ;  but  now  she 
coolly  tells  me  she  cannot  make  up  her 
mind  and  will  not  marry.  After  this  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  talking  to  Cecil 
[Lord  Burleigh],  who  I  understand  was 
in  disgrace  and  Robert  [Dudley]  was 
trying  to  turn  him  out  of  his  place. 
After  exacting  many  pledges  of  strict 
secrecy,  he  said  the  Queen  was  con- 
ducting herself  in  such  a  way  that  he 
thought  of  retiring.  He  said  it  was  a 
bad  sailor  who  did  not  enter  port  if  he 
could  when  he  saw  a  storm  coming  on, 
and  he  clearly  foresaw  the  ruin  of  the 


realm  through  Robert's  intimacy  with 
the  Queen,  who  surrendered  all  affairs 
to  him  and  meant  to  marry  him.  He 
said  ...  he  should  ask  leave  to  go 
home,  although  he  thought  they  would 
cast  him  in  the  Tower  first.  He  ended 
by  begging  me  in  God's  name  to  point 
out  to  the  Queen  the  effect  of  her  mis- 
conduct, and  persuade  her  not  to  aban- 
don business  entirely  but  to  look  to  her 
realm  ;  and  then  he  repeated  twice  over 
to  me  that  Lord  Robert  would  be  better 
in  Paradise  than  here.  .  .  .  He  ended 
by  saying  that  Robert  was  thinking  of 
killing  his  wife,  who  was  publicly  an- 
nounced to  be  ill,  although  she  was 
quite  well,  and  would  take  very  good 
care  they  did  not  poison  her.  He  said 
surely  God  would  never  allow  such  a 
wicked  thing  to  be  done.  I  ended  the 
conversation  by  again  expressing  my 
sorrow  without  saying  anything  to 
compromise  me,  although  I  am  sure  he 
speaks  the  truth  and  is  not  acting  crook- 
edly. .  .  .  The  next  day  the  Queen 
told  me  as  she  returned  from  hunting 
that  Robert's  wife  was  dead,  or  nearly 
so,  and  asked  me  not  to  say  anything 
about  it.  Certainly  this  business  is 
most  shameful  and  scandalous,  and 
withal  I  am  not  sure  whether  she  will 
marry  the  man  at  once  or  even  if  she 
will  marry  at  all.  Cecil  says  she  wishes 
to  do  as  her  father  did.  Their  quarrels 
cannot  injure  public  business,  as  nobody 
worse  than  Cecil  can  be  at  the  head  of 
affairs,  but  the  outcome  of  it  all  might 
be  the  imprisonment  of  the  Qaeen  and 
the  proclamation  of  the  Earl  of  Hunt- 
ingdon as  King.  .  .  .  Cecil  says  he  is 
the  real  heir  of  England,  and  all  the 
heretics  want  him.  .  .  .  The  cry  is 
that  they  do  not  want  any  more  women 
rulers,  and  this  woman  may  find  herself 
and  her  favourite  in  prison  any  morn- 
ing.   .   .   . 

Since  wilting  the    above  I  hear  the 
Queen  has  published  the  death  of  Rob- 


Elizabeth 


ert's  wife,  and  said,  in  Italian,  '-She 
broke  her  neck."  She  must  have  fallen 
down  a  staircase. 

Quadra  to  the  King. 

Nov.  20th,  1560. 

.  .  .  Cecil  has  given  way  to  Robert, 
who  they  say  was  married  to  the  Queen 
in  the  presence  of  his  brother  and  two 
ladies  of  the  chamber.   .   . 

Jan.  22d,  1561. 

Since  writing  the  enclosed  letter 
Henry  Sidney,  who  is  the  brother-in- 
law  of  Lord  Robert,  came  to  see  me. 
He  is  a  sensible  man  and  better  be- 
haved than  any  of  the  courtiers.  He 
began  by  beating  about  the  bush  very 
widely,  but  at  last  came  to  his  brother- 
in-law's  affairs  and  said  that  as  the 
matter  was  now  public  property,  and  I 
knew  how  much  inclined  the  Queen 
was  to  the  marriage,  he  wondered  that 
I  had  not  suggested  to  your  Majesty 
this  opportunity  for  gaining  over  Lord 
Robert  by  extending  a  hand  to  him 
now.  ...  I  told  him  that  what  I  had 
so  far  heard  of  this  matter  was  of  such 
a  character  that  I  had  hardly  ventured 
to  write  two  lines  to  your  Majesty  about 
it,  nor  had  either  the  Queen  or  Lord 
Robert  ever  said  a  word  to  me  that  I 
could  write.  .  .  .  He  said  that  if  I 
was  satisfied  about  the  death  of  Rob- 
ert's wife,  he  saw  no  other  reason  why 
I  should  hesitate  to  write  the  purport 
of  this  conversation  to  your  Majesty, 
as,  after  all,  although  it  was  a  love  af- 
fair, yet  the  object  of  it  was  marriage, 
and  that  there  was  nothing  illicit  about 
it  or  such  as  could  not  be  set  right  by 
your  Majesty's  authority.  As  regards 
the  death  of  the  wife,  he  was  certain 
that  it  was  accidental,  and  he  had  never 
been  able  to  learn  otherwise,  although 
he  had  enquired  with  great  care  and 
knew  that  public  opinion  held  the  con- 
trary. I  told  him  if  what  he  said  were 
true  the  evil  was  less,  for,   if   murder 


had  been  committed,  God  would  never 
help  nor  fail  to  punish  so  abominable 
a  crime,  whatever  men  might  do  to 
mend  it,  but  that  it  would  be  difficult 
for  Lord  Robert  to  make  things  appear 
as  he  represented  them.  He  answered 
it  was  quite  true  that  no  one  believed 
it,  and  that  even  preachers  in  the  pul- 
pits discoursed  on  the  matter  in  a  way 
that  was  prejudicial  to  the  honour  and 
interests  of  the  Queen.  .  .  .  He  said 
the  Queen  would  not  mention  the  mat- 
ter to  me  unless  I  began  the  conversa- 
tion, but  that  I  might  be  sure  that  she 
desired  nothing  more  than  the  counte- 
nance of  your  Majesty  to  conclude  the 
match,  and  that  Lord  Robert  would 
come  to  me  and  beg  me  to  write  to  your 
Majesty  what  I  heard  from  him.   .   . 

The  above  is  exactly  what  passed, 
and  for  some  days  I  had  suspected  that 
the  Queen  had  some  such  idea,  but  as 
the  business  is  altogether  such  a  bad 
one,  I  did  not  venture  to  broach  the 
subject.  ...  It  is  possible  that  if  she 
finds  herself  unable  to  obtain  your  Maj- 
esty's  favour,  she  may  throw  herself  to 
the  bad.  .  .  Things  have  reached  such 
a  pitch  that  her  chamberlain  has  left 
her,  and  Axele  of  the  Privy  Chamber 
is  in  prison  for  having  babbled.   .   . 

He  (Robert)  begged  me  to  speak  to 
the  Queen  at  once.  I  did  so  two  days 
afterwards.  .  .  .  After  much  circum- 
locution she  said  she  wished  to  confess 
to  me  and  tell  me  her  secret  in  confes- 
sion, which  was  that  she  was  no  angel, 
and  did  not  deny  that  she  had  some 
affection  for  Lord  Robert  for  the  many 
good  qualities  he  possessed,  but  she  had 
certainly  never  decided  to  marry  him 
or  any  one  else.   .   .   . 

Philip  II.  to  Quadra. 

March  17th,  1561. 
.   .   .  Try  also  to  lead  the  matter  on 
to  a  more  solid  basis,  as  for  instance 
by  bringing  the  Queen  and  Lord  Rob- 


Elizabeth 


ert  into  it,  and  getting  in  writing  and 
signed  by  her  whatever  the  Queen  may 
wish  to  be  proposed  to  you.  This  is 
necessary,  as  her  words  are  so  little  to 
be  depended  upon,  and  you  know  by 
experience  you  have  had  of  her  that 
this  is  always  the  course  she  pursues 
when  she  has  no  intention  of  fulfilling 
what  she  says,  and  only  wishes  to  use 
our  authority  for  her  own  designs  and 
intentions.   .   .   . 

Quadra  to  Philip. 

June  30th. 
.  .  .  On  the  day  of  St.  John  the  Queen 
ordered  me  to  be  invited  to  a  feast  given 
by  Lord  Robert.  ...  In  the  afternoon 
we  went  on  board  a  vessel  from  which 
we  were  to  see  the  rejoicings,  and  she, 
Robert  and  I  being  alone  on  the  gal- 
lery, they  began  joking,  which  she  likes 
to  do  much  better  than  talking  about 
business.  They  went  so  far  with  their 
jokes  that  Lord  Robert  told  her  that,  if 
she  liked,  I  could  be  the  minister  to 
perform  the  act  of  marriage,  and  she, 
nothing  loth  to  hear  it,  said  she  was 
not  sure  whether  I  knew  enough  Eng- 
lish. I  let  them  jest  for  a  time,  but  at 
last  spoke  to  them  in  earnest,  and  told 
them  that  if  they  listened  to  me  they 
could  extricate  themselves  from  the  tyr- 
anny of  the  councillors  who  had  taken 
possession  of  the  Queen  and  her  affairs. 
...  If  they  did  this  they  could  effect 
the  marriage  they  spoke  of.  .  .  .  As 
things  were  I  did  not  think  the  Queen 
would  be  able  to  marry  except  when 
and  whom  Cecil  and  his  friends  might 
please.   .   .   . 

Guzman  de  Silva  to  Philip  II. 
Oct.  2d,  1564. 
.  .  .  On  Michaelmas  day,  with  the 
usual  ceremony,  here  the  Queen  created 
Lord  Robert,  Baron  and  Earl  of  Leices- 
ter, which  they  say  is  a  title  usually 
given  to  the  second  sons  of  the  Kings 
of  England.   .   .  . 


4.  A  Visit  to  Cambridge  in  1564. 
(From  a  pamphlet  entitled  "  The  Tri- 
umph of  the  Muses,  or  The  Grand 
Reception  and  Entertainment  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  at  Cambridge.") 

.  .  .  Then  came  the  Trumpetters, 
and,  by  solemn  blast,  declared  her 
Majestie  to  approach.  Then  followed 
the  Lords  in  their  order  and  degree. 
Her  almoner,  the  Bishop  of  Rochester, 
bareheaded,  with  the  Bishop  of  Ely. 
Then  the  Garter  King  at  Arms,  in  his 
royal  cote ;  with  divers  Sergeants  at 
Arms.  Then  the  Lord  Hunsdon  with 
the  sword,  in  a  royal  scabbard  of  gold- 
smith's work.  And,  after  him,  the 
Queen's  Majestie  (with  a  great  com- 
panie  of  ladies  and  maids  of  honour). 
.  .  .  And  so  she  was  brought  among 
the  Doctors ;  when  all  the  Lords  and 
Ladies  did  forsake  their  horses ;  and 
her  Majestie  only  remained  on  horse- 
back. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  gown  of  black 
velvet  pinked  :  a  call  upon  her  head, 
set  with  pearles  and  pretious  stones ;  a 
hat  that  was  spangled  with  gold  and  a 
bush  of  feathers.   .   .   . 

When  the  Queen's  Majestie  came  to 
the  west  doore  of  the  church,  Sir 
William  Cecyl  kneeled  down  and  wel- 
comed her  Grace,  shewing  unto  her  the 
order  of  the  doctors.  And  the  Bedells, 
kneeling,  kissed  their  staves ;  and  so 
delivered  them  to  Mr.  Secretary  ;  who 
likewise  kissed  the  same,  and  so  deliv- 
ered them  to  the  Queen's  hands;  who 
could  not  well  hold  them  all.  And 
her  Grace  gently  and  merrily  re-deliv- 
ered them,  willing  him  and  other  mag- 
istrates of  the  University  to  minister 
justice  uprightly,  as  she  trusted  they 
did.  Or  she  would  take  them  into  her 
own  hands,  and  see  to  it.  Adding 
that,  although  the  Chancellor  did  hault 
(for  his  leg  was  sore,  as  is  before  men- 
tioned), yet  she  trusted  that  Justice  did 
not  hault.    .    „   . 


RVPERTVS  DVDL* VS CO 


Elizabeth 


Then  Mr.  William  Master,  of  the 
King's  College,  orator,  making  his 
three  curtesies,  kneeled  down  upon  the 
first  greese  or  step  of  the  west  door 
(which  was,  on  the  walls  outward, 
covered  with  verses)  and  made  his 
oration,  of  length  almost  half  an  hour. 
.  .  .  First  he  praised  and  commended 
many  and  singular  virtues  set  and 
planted  in  her  Majesty.  Which  her 
Highness  not  acknowledging  of  she 
shaked  her  head,  bit  her  lips  and  her 
fingers ;  and  sometimes  broke  forth 
into    passion   and    these  words,   "  Non 

est  Veritas,  et  utinam "    .   .    .  Then 

she  alighted  from  her  horse  and  asking 
of  what  degree  every  doctor  was? 
offered  her  hand  to  be  kissed.  .  .  . 
And  as  she  went,  she  "  thanked  God 
that  had  sent  her  to  this  University, 
where  she,  altogether  against  her  ex- 
pectation, was  so  received  that,  she 
thought,  she  could  not  be  better." 


5.  A  Visit  to  Oxford  in  1566.  (From 
John  Bereblock's  Commentary.  In 
Plummer's  Elizabethan  Oxford.  Ox- 
ford, 1887.  Editor's  translation 
from  the  L  a  tin.) 

On  the  last  day  of  August,  the 
brightest  that  we  remember  in  our 
whole  lives, — it  was  a  wonderfully 
clear  Saturday, — her  royal  Majesty, 
coming  from  Woodstock,  directed  her 
way  with  a  large  train  of  attendants 
towards  Oxford.  The  Earl  of  Leices- 
ter had  previously  come  with  his  suite 
to  add  the  weight  of  his  dignity  and 
office  in  preparing  the  town  for  the 
intended  function  and  to  receive  with 
us  her  royal  Majesty.  On  this  day, 
accompanied  by  some  of  the  doctors  in 
their  purple  gowns  and  also  by  some 
of  the  heads  of  the  colleges  (who,  in 
consideration  of  their  more  exalted 
rank,  drove  in  carriages,  wearing  the 
appropriate   robes  of  their  own  facul- 


ties), he  went  out  to  meet  the  Sov- 
ereign. .  .  .  Having  proceeded  two 
miles  from  the  town  (to  the  line  where 
our  jurisdiction  ends)  they  greeted  the 
most  serene  monarch  with  a  felicitous 
and  eloquent  oration,  which  Marbeck 
delivered  in  their  name  and  in  that  of 
the  whole  university.  Then  they  moved 
towards  Oxford,  the  peasants  and  farm- 
ers running  out  from  the  villages  and 
settlements  to  greet  her,  their  shouts 
and  cheers  making  the  hills  and  dales 
ring  with  the  royal  name  and  might. 

Nor  does  it  seem  beneath  our  regard 
for  the  royal  dignity  to  tell  in  what 
rank  and  order  the  different  men 
marched.  .  .  .  First  came  the  Aca- 
demic lictors  with  their  golden  staves, 
to  show  the  way,  as  it  were.  Then 
followed  the  noblest  princes,  in  high 
good  spirits,  adorned  to  the  last  degree 
with  royal  magnificence — among  them 
those  men  of  supreme  rank,  the  Earl  of 
Leicester,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Uni- 
versity and  the  Mayor  of  the  town. 
-•^Phen  the  i-oyal  lictors,  in  magnificent 
array,  preceding  the  monarch  with 
huge  maces  ;  just  behind  them  the  Earl 
of  Sussex  bore  the  sword,  resplendent 
with  its  jewelled  hilt,  its  golden  belt 
and  its  embossed  scabbard.  Then  at  a 
short  distance,  at  a  slow  and  noble 
pace,  followed  the  most  august  mon- 
arch borne  along  on  a  raised  golden 
throne.  Her  palanquin  was  open  on 
all  sides,  being  carried  by  distinguished 
knights  clad  in  purple  and  advancing 
with  measured  steps. 

Lest  the  curious  may  ask  in  vain 
about  her  raiment,  she  had  on  the  top 
of  her  head  a  little  net  sparkling  with 
spun  gold,  with  drops  and  pearls. 
Then  her  dress  of  state,  a  woman's 
toga  of  silk,  was  of  richest  purple 
shining  with  threads  of  gold.  Her 
outer  garment  was  similar,  of  scarlet 
tinged  with  purple,  with  a  fur  lining 
of  dazzling  whiteness  and  marked  with 


8 


Elizabeth 


black  spots,  such  as  might  have  been 
worn  in  a  triumph. 

Nor  ought  I  to  pass  over  here  what 
the  most  illustrious  queen,  with  the  ut- 
most grace  and  suavity,  did  towards  the 
end  of  our  [oratorical]  contest.  For 
with  the  utmost  condescension,  lest  by 
the  harsh  proof  of  her  silence  she  might 
have  seemed  to  scorn  and  despise  our 
efforts,  she  looked  round  on  the  assem- 
bly and  began  with  incredible  facility 
[in  Latin]  to  make  an  address  which 
thrilled  the  souls  of  all.  .  .  .  Womanly 
timidity  and  modesty  made  her  at  first 
hesitate  and  appear  diffident.  She 
seemed  to  blush  with  maidenly  shame 
from  this  display  of  her  age  and  her 
learning,  and  to  shrink  with  a  certain 
ingenuous  bashf ulness  from  the  task  of 
speaking.  But  it  was  wonderful  to  see 
how  the  unutterable  love  of  all  of  us 
affected  her  reluctance.  For  so  did  the 
whole  assembly  hang  with  eager  hope 
and  expectation  on  her  lips  and  dis- 
course that  she  was  urged  on,  strength- 
ened and  reassured  in  mind,  and  de- 
livered before  us  an  oration  in  about 
these  words : — 

She  was  listened  to  by  all  in  silence 
and  with  rapt  attention,  but  was  after- 
wards greeted  with  the  wildest  cheers 
and  blessings.  The  walls,  and  even 
the  windows  and  benches,  seemed  to 
resound  deafeningly  with  the  voices 
of  our  men,  and  our  words  to  come 
back  to  us  more  distinctly  than  we  had 
uttered  them. 

The  next  day,  Friday,  dawned  for 
us  more  calamitously  than  the  preced- 
ing ones.  For  even  as,  previously,  the 
coming  of  our  Sovereign  had  wonder- 
fully delighted  us,  so,  this  day,  her 
sudden  departure  the  more  grievously 
afflicted  us.  But  we  were  obliged 
to  bring  our  minds    to    it,  for    so   had 


hard  fate  previously  arranged  and  or- 
dained.  .   .   . 

She,  meanwhile,  sad  and  mournful, 
mingled  her  own  grief  with  ours.  She 
seemed  to  feel  this  parting  very  much 
and  to  bewail  her  lot  as  she  rode  along. 
She  is  said  to  have  bitterly  regretted 
leaving  us  before  she  had  visited  any  of 
the  colleges  or  heard  a  sermon  by  one 
of  our  divines.  They  say  that  never 
before  had  she  been  so  sad  at  ending  a 
visit  as  now  at  leaving  our  town.  With 
protestations  to  this  effect,  and  often 
looking  at  us  most  graciously,  she 
passed  through  the  Eastern  gate  and 
Magdalen  College  and  came  to  the  con- 
fines of  the  university.  Here  once 
more  Marbeck  told  her  how  pleasant 
in  itself,  and  what  a  boon  to  the  uni- 
versity her  presence  had  been,  how 
much  more  eager  it  would  make  us  all 
in  our  studies,  how  it  would  spur  us 
on,  what  a  spark  it  had  ignited.  He 
thanked  her  most  profusely  in  the  name 
of  all.  After  which  speech  the  differ- 
ent doctors  prostrated  themselves  at 
her  feet.  .  .  .  She  graciously  raised 
them  and  gave  them  her  right  hand 
to    kiss.   .   .   . 


6.  Extract  from  the  Report  of  the 
French  Envoy,  Chateauneuf,  to  his 
King.  In  Teulet  Papiers  d'  Etat, 
Vol.  II.  p.  807,  1586.      Translated. 

.  .  .  The  said  lady,  to  speak  of  her 
peculiar  characteristics,  is  a  very  pru- 
dent and  accomplished  princess  who 
has  been  very  well  brought  up.  She 
plays  all  sorts  of  instruments,  speaks 
several  languages,  and  even  Latin,  very 
well,  is  intelligent  and  quick-witted,  a 
woman  with  a  deep  sense  of  justice,  in 
no  way  tyrannizing  over  her  subjects, 
and  who  was  beautiful  when  she  was 
young.  Besides  all  this  a  great  man- 
ager and  almost  miserly,  very  high  and 
quick  tempered,  and,  above  all,  excess- 
ively jealous  of  her  position. 


Elizabeth 


On  her  coming  to  the  throne  she 
made  much  use  in  public  affairs  of  Mr. 
William  Cecil,  her  Secretary  of  State, 
whom  she  afterwards  made  Lord  Bur- 
leigh and  Grand  Treasurer  of  England. 
He  was  still  living  when  I  arrived  in 
the  said  kingdom ;  a  wise,  prudent, 
pacific  and  thrifty  man,  with  a  clear 
and  acute  mind — a  man  who  can  say 
with  truth  that  he  has  been  a  splendid 
servant,  as  indeed  his  mistress  has 
always  placed  great  confidence  in  him. 

She  has  had  Lord  Dudley,  later  Earl 
of  Leicester,  whom  she  has  always 
greatly  loved  since  she  was  young,  and 
indeed  he  was  a  very  handsome  gentle- 
man, honorable  and  courteous ;  and  at 
the  time  of  my  arrival  he  was  about 
fifty  three  or  four  years  old  and  had 
grown  very  rotund.  These  two  men 
are  the  ones  who  during  the  whole  of 


her  reign  have  had  most  influence  with 
her ;  and  in  fact  I  believe  that  the  man 
in  all  the  world  she  came  nearest  to 
marrying  was  this  Earl  of  Leicester, 
having  had  a  wonderful  affection  for 
him  which  she  herself  did  not  conceal. 
And  although,  as  I  have  said,  she  had 
been  sought  by  many  great  princes, 
like  our  three  dauphins,  by  Archduke 
Charles,  brother  of  the  late  Emperor 
Maximilian,  by  the  King  of  Sweden,  it 
is  the  said  Earl  of  Leicester  who  came 
nearest  to  marrying  her.  However, 
the  said  lady  having  made  up  her  mind 
not  to  marry  at  all,  she  has  greatly  ele- 
vated him  and  all  his  relatives ;  so 
much  so  that  at  the  time  of  my  arrival 
he  might  have  been  called  the  first  man 
in  England  after  the  said  lady.  [This 
was  22  years  after  the  scene  on  ship- 
board.— Ed.] 


GROUP   II. 


THE    EXECUTION    OF    MARY    QUEEN    OF    SCOTS. 


i.  Extract  from  Sir  James  Melville's 
Memoirs  (Publ.  Bannatyne  Club,  1827, 
p.  355  ff.).     Spelling  modernized. 

1586. 

.  .  .  Now  they  that  were  enemies 
to  our  Queen  and  King's  [Mary  and 
James  VI.]  title  to  the  right  of  the 
crown  of  England,  seeing  some  of  their 
fetches  to  fail  them,  entered  in  deliber- 
ation what  way  to  proceed  in  the  taking 
of  the  Queen's  life.  Sometimes  they 
minded  to  give  her  an  Italian  posset 
[powder],  sometimes  to  slay  her  at  the 
hunting  in  a  park,  but  at  length,  by 
way  of  an  assize,  to  convict  her.   .   .   . 

All  their  calumnies  and  false  accusa- 
tions being  presented  in  writing  unto 
the  Queen  of  England,  her  heart  would 
not  suffer  her,  as  she  alleged,  to  let  any 
sentence  be  given  forth  against  the 
•Queen,  her  dear  sister  and  cousin,  so 


near  of  her  royal  blood,  until  the  coun- 
cil, nobility  and  estates,  at  least  such  as 
were  seduced  to  that  effect,  sat  down 
upon  their  knees,  humbly  requesting 
her  Majesty  to  have  compassion  upon 
their  unsure  estate,  albeit  she  cared  not 
for  her  own,  by  the  practices  of  the 
Queen  of  Scotland.  Whereby  she 
was  at  length  moved,  for  very  pity  of 
them,  to  give  forth  the  sentence  of  death 
upon  the  Queen,  with  condition  that  it 
should  rather  serve  to  be  a  fear  and 
terror  unto  her,  to  cause  her  to  cease 
from  making  any  more  practices,  than 
that  she  would  see  the  blood  of  so  noble 
a  princess  to  be  shed.  And  in  the 
meantime  the  written  sentence  was 
given  in  keeping  to  Mister  Davison, 
one  of  her  secretaries,  and  not  to  be 
delivered  without  her  Majesty's  express 
command. 


IO 


Elizabeth 


Nevertheless,  the  said  Davison  being 
desired  by  the  council,  afterwards  de- 
livered unto  them  the  said  written  sen- 
tence of  death.  Whereupon  they  gave 
the  Queen  warning  a  night  before,  to 
prepare  her  for  God.   .   .   . 

2.  Extracts  from  Letters  of  Queen 
Elizabeth  to  King  James  of  Scotland. 
(Publ.  by  Camden  Society,  1849.) 

January,  1586-7. 
.  .  .  You  may  see  whether  I  keep 
the  serpent  that  poisons  me  when  they 
confess  to  have  reward  [Wc].  By 
saving  of  her  life  they  would  have  had 
mine.  Do  I  not  make  myself,  trow  ye, 
a  goodly  prey  for  every  wretch  to  de- 
vour? Transfigure  yourself  into  my 
state,  and  suppose  what  you  ought  to 
do,  and  thereafter  weigh  my  life  and 
reject  the  care  of  murder,  and  shun  all 
baits  that  may  untie  our  amities,  and 
let  all  men  know  that  princes  know 
best  their  own  laws,  and  misjudge  not 
that  you  know  not.   .   .   . 

Feb.  1,  1586-7. 

.  .  .  They  will  make  [out]  that  her 
life  may  be  saved,  and  mine  safe  ;  which 
would  God  were  true,  for  when  you 
make  view  of  my  long  danger  endured 
these  four — well  nigh  five  months,  .  .  . 
the  greatest  wits  .  .  .  will  grant  with 
me  that  if  need  were  not  more  than  my 
malice,  she  should  not  have  her  merit. 

And  now  for  a  good  conclusion  of 
my  long-tarried-for  answer.  Your 
commissioners  tell  me  that  I  may  trust 
her  in  the  hand  of  some  indifferent 
prince,  and  have  all  her  cousins  and 
allies  promise  she  will  no  more  seek 
my  ruin.  Dear  brother  and  cousin, 
weigh  in  true  and  equal  balance  whether 
they  lack  not  much  good  ground  when 
such  stuff  serves  for  their  building. 
Suppose  you  I  am  so  mad  to  trust  my 
life  in  another's  hand  and  send  it  out 
of  my  own?  .   .   .  Old  Master  Melvin 


hath  years  enough  to  teach  him  more 
wisdom  than  tell  a  prince  of  any  judg- 
ment such  a  contrarious,  frivolous, 
maimed  reason.  Let  your  councillors, 
for  your  honor,  discharge  their  duty  so 
much  to  you  as  to  declare  the  absurdity 
of  such  an  offer.  .  .  .  Though  like  a 
most  natural,  good  son  you  charged 
them  to  seek  all  means  they  could 
devise  with  wit  or  judgment  to  save  her 
life,  yet  I  cannot,  nor  do  not,  allege 
any  fault  to  you  of  these  persuasions. 
...  I  doubt  not  but  your  wisdom  will 
excuse  my  need  .  .  .  and  not  accuse 
me  either  of   malice  or  of    hate.   .    .   . 


3.  Extract  from  the  Journal  of  Bour- 
going,  Mary's  body  physician.  (Chan- 
telauze :  Marie  Stuart,  pp.  571  ff.) 
Translated  from  the  French. 

Monday  the  sixth  of  February  the 
dean  of  Peterborough  and  some  othei  s 
came  to  dine  with  Sir  Amyas  [Mary's 
jailor].  After  dinner  Mr.  Beale 
arrived  at  the  apartment  all  alone, 
remained  closeted  with  Sir  Amyas  and 
then  returned  to  the  village. 

Tuesday,  Feb.  7th,  several  came, 
one  6f  whom  we  think  was  the  sheriff, 
and  dined  with  Sir  Amyas.  After  din- 
ner the  Earl  of  Kent,  and  last  of  all 
Mr.  de  Shrewesbury.  At  their  coming 
we  were  in  a  great  state  of  distraction 
and  fear,  having  during  the  past  three 
days  fancied  that  many  things  boded  ill 
for  her  Majesty  in  her  straits,  and  sus- 
pecting that  surely  the  blow  was  about 
to  fall. 

They  sent  word  to  her  Majesty  that 
they  wished  to  speak  to  her,  and  she 
answered  that  she  was  in  bed,  but  that 
if  it  was  an  urgent  matter  she  would 
ask  for  a  little  time  in  which  to  rise 
and  dress. 

Having  been  told  that  it  was  an 
affair  of  importance  her  Majesty  pre- 
pared to  receive  them  in  her  room, 
seated  in  her  chair  at  the   foot  of  her 


Elizabeth 


ii 


bed ;  and  when  the  said  two  Earls  had 
come,  together  with  Mr.  Beale  and  Mr. 
Paulet  and  Sir  Dru  Drury,  the  Earl  of 
Shrewesbury  uncovering  his  head — 
while  all  the  rest  standing  together  did 
not  uncover  themselves  during  the 
whole  time  they  were  talking  to  her — 
commenced  by  saying  that  the  Queen 
of  England  had  sent  them  to  her,  in 
her  own  name  and  that  of  her  Estates, 
to  inform  her  that  having  proceeded, 
as  she  knew,  honorably  and  as  expe- 
diency demanded  in  her  affair,  she 
having  been  accused,  found  guilty  and 
condemned,  as  she  knew  and  as  the 
Queen  had  taken  care  she  should  be 
informed,  she  should  hear  read  her 
sentence  which  he  and  the  Earl  of 
Kent  together  with  Mr.  Beale  had 
been  appointed  to  carry  out,  as  she 
should  hear. 

Thereupon  said  Beale  commenced  to 
read  it,  written  on  parchment  with  the 
great  seal  of  England  appended,  and  in 
it  her  Majesty  was  called  Mary  Stuart, 
daughter  of  James  V.,  otherwise  known 
as  Queen  of  Scots  and  Dowager  of 
France. 

When  this  had  been  read  her  Majesty, 
very  firmly  and  without  emotion,  re- 
plied that  she  thanked  them  for  such 
agreeable  news ;  that  they  were  doing 
her  a  great  benefit  in  removing  her 
from  this  world,  whence  she  was  well 
content  to  go  on  account  of  the  misery 
she  saw  there,  and  she  herself  having 
had  continual  son-ow  and  being  of  ser- 
vice or  profit  to  no  one.  She  had 
long  expected  what  had  now  hap- 
pened, and  had  only  been  waiting  for  it 
from  day  to  day  for  eighteen  years. 
Unworthy  as  she  considered  herself  she 
was,  by  the  grace  of  God,  a  queen,  a 
born  and  anointed  queen,  a  near  rela- 
tive of  the  Queen  of  England,  grand- 
daughter of  King  Henry  VII.,  and  she 
had  enjoyed  the  honor  of  being  Queen 
of  France.      But  in  all  her  life  she  had 


experienced  nothing  but  evil,  and  she 
was  very  happy  that  it  had  pleased 
God  to  remove  her  from  so  many  ills 
and  afflictions,  very  ready  and  content  to 
die  and  shed  her  blood  in  the  cause  of 
Almighty  God  her  Saviour  and  Creator 
and  of  the  Catholic  Church,  and  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  law  of  this 
country.  For  such  maintenance  she 
protested  that  she  had  alwa)  s  done  her 
utmost,  loving  the  Queen,  her  good 
sister,  and  the  Island  as  dearly  as  she 
did  herself ;  as  she  had  often  shown  by 
offering  to  take  such  measures  that 
everything  would  turn  out  well,  .  .  . 
in  which  endeavor  she  had  always 
been  rebuffed  and  repulsed  and  held 
prisoner  without  having  merited  it ; 
having  come  of  her  own  free  will  to 
this  country  and  trusting  in  the  prom- 
ise of  the  Queen  of  England,  with 
whom  she  could  have  come  to  an 
agreement  and  taken  measures  that 
would  have  been  mutually  satisfactory 
had  she  only  one  single  time  been 
allowed  to  speak  to  her.  Finally  after 
many  words  her  Majesty  protested,  and 
swore  on  the  Bible  that  she  had  upon 
her  person,  or  at  least  on  the  Catholic 
new  Testament  that  she  had  in  English, 
that  she  had  never  attempted  nor  sought 
the  life  of  the  Queen  nor  of  any  other 
person  whatever.  She  was  told  in 
reply  that  this  Bible  was  a  papistical 
version  and  that  they  could  not  take  it 
into  account. 

She  was  offered  the  dean  of  Peter- 
borough, one  of  the  most  learned  men 
in  Europe,  who  would  give  her  conso- 
lation and  talk  to  her  about  her  salva- 
tion and  about  which  was  the  true 
religion  ;  that  she  had  always  remained 
fast  bound  in  what  she  had  learned  in 
her  youth,  and  this  chiefly  because  she 
had  had  no  one  to  tell  her  the  truth. 
It  was  time,  now  that  she  had  so  few 
hours  to  live,  for  her  to  think  of  her 
conscience      and     recognize    the     true 


12 


Elizabeth 


religion,- and  she  should  not  hold  any 
longer  to  these  follies  and  abominations 
of  papistry.  Her  Majesty  answered 
.  .  .  that  she  had  heard  and  read  the 
most  learned  men  not  only  in  the  Cath- 
olic but  also  in  the  Protestant  religion  ; 
.  .  .  that  she  had  found  no  edification, 
but,  having  lived  thus  far  in  the  true 
religion  it  was  no  time  to  change ;  now 
was  the  hour  for  remaining  firm  and 
constant  as  she  intended  doing.  Rather 
than  falter  she  would  lose  ten  thousand 
lives  if  she  had  them,  and,  if  possible, 
shed  all  her  blood  several  times  and 
endure  all  the  crudest  torments  they 
could  invent ;  finally,  in  order  to  con- 
sole her  and  the  better  prepare  her  for 
death  that  they  should  let  her  see  her 
priest,  none  other  would  she  have.   .   .    . 

Finally,  being  constantly  urged  to 
hear  the  minister,  her  Majesty  asked 
when  she  would  have  to  die.  The 
reply  was  the  next  day,  "about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning."    .   .   . 

After  supper  her  Majesty  sent  for 
all  her  servants,  urged  them  to  live  in 
charity  with  each  other,  and,  after  a 
long  harangue,  took  leave  of  them, 
granting  them  pardon  for  every- 
thing.  .   .   . 

In  the  night,  after  having  lain  down 
with  her  clothes  on  for  several  hours, 
she  put  her  last  wishes  into  writing  as 
fully  as  she  could  in  the  time  at  her 
command,  arranged  about  her  furni- 
ture and  about  the  journey  of  her  ser- 
vants, and  gave  each  one  his  or  her 
money  as  she  thought  right.    .   .   . 


4.  Letter  of  Maiy  to  her  brother-in- 
law,  Henry  III.  of  France.  Written  at 
two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the 
execution.  (Chantelauze,  p.  397-) 
Translation. 

My  brother-in-law :  Having  come 
with  God's  permission,  on  account  of 
my  sins  I  suppose,  to  throw  myself  in- 
to the  arms  of  this  queen,  my  cousin, 


where  I  have  passed  more  than  twenty 
years  constantly  beset  by  annoyances,  I 
have  at  last,  by  her  and  her  Estates,  been 
condemned  to  death.  Having  asked  for 
my  papers,  which  they  had  taken  away, 
in  order  to  make  my  will,  I  have  received 
back  nothing  that  was  of  any  use.  And 
they  would  grant  me  neither  leave  to 
make  a  new  will  nor  my  request  that 
after  my  death  my  body  might  be  trans- 
ported to  your  kingdom,  where  I  have 
had  the  honor  of  being  queen,  your 
sister  and  former  ally.  To-day,  after 
dinner,  they  have  pronounced  to  me  my 
sentence  without  longer  respite  :  that  to- 
morrow, at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, I  should  be  executed  like  a  criminal. 
I  have  had  no  time  to  draw  up  a  full 
account  of  all  that  happened ;  but,  if  it 
will  please  you  to  believe  my  physician 
(Bom-going)  and  these  other  bereaved 
servitors  of  mine  you  will  know  what 
the  truth  is,  and  that,  thanks  to  God,  I 
scorn  death  and  resolutely  protest  that  I 
am  suffering  it  free  from  all  crime,  even 
though  I  were  their  subject,  which  I 
never  will  be.  The  Catholic  religion 
and  the  maintenance  of  the  right  that 
God  has  given  me  to  this  crown  :  these 
are  the  two  points  of  my  condemnation. 
And  yet  they  will  not  permit  me  to  say 
that  it  is  for  the  Catholic  religion  I  am 
dying,  but  aver  it  is  for  fear  I  shall 
change  theirs.  Consequently  they  have 
removed  my  almoner,  whom,  although 
he  is  in  the  house,  I  have  not  been 
allowed  to  have  confess  me  or  shrive 
me  at  my  death ;  but  they  have  been 
very  persistent  in  trying  to  make  me 
receive  the  consolation  and  doctrine  of 
their  minister  whom  they  have  brought 
for  the  purpose.  The  bearer  of  this 
(Bourgoing)  and  his  companions,  who 
are  mostly  your  subjects,  will  bear  wit- 
ness how  I  comport  myself  in  this  my 
last  act.  It  remains  for  me  to  suppli- 
cate you,  as  most  Christian  king,  my 
brother-in-law,  friend,  ally  and  one  who 


Elizabeth 


'3 


has  so  done  me  the  honor  of  loving  me 
and  protesting  that  love,  that  on  the 
occasion  of  this  blow  you  will  give 
proof  in  all  these  matters  of  your  high- 
mindedness,  by,  on  the  one  hand,  through 
charity,  relieving  me  of  one  weight  up- 
on my  conscience  which  I  cannot  throw 
off  without  you,  namely,  the  recom- 
pensing of  my  bereaved  servants  and 
the  continuing  to  them  of  their  wages ; 
on  the  other,  by  causing  prayers  to  be 
made  to  God  for  a  queen  who  has  been 
called  most  Christian,  and  who  dies  a 
Catholic  and  bereft  of  all  her  means. 
As  to  my  son,  I  recommend  him  to  you 
according  to  his  merits,  for  I  cannot 
answer  for  him  ;  but  with  regard  to  my 
servitors  I  beg  it  of  you  with  locked 
hands.  I  make  so  bold  as  to  send  you 
two  rare  health  stones,  trusting  that 
yours  may  be  perfect  and  that  your  life 
may  be  long  and  happy.  You  will 
accept  them  as  coming  from  your  very 
devoted  sister-in-law,  who  dies  bearing 
testimony  of  the  sincerity  of  her  heart 
towards  you.  I  will  draw  up  a  memo- 
randum for  you  with  regard  to  my 
servants,  and  in  what  concerns  my  soul 
you  will  be  pleased  to  see  to  it  that  a 
part  is  paid  out  of  what  you  owe  me, 
and  that  in  honor  of  Jesus  Christ,  to 
whom  at  my  death  to-morrow  I  shall 
pray  for  you,  enough  will  be  left  to 
establish  yearly  masses  and  to  dispense 
the  necessary  alms. 

Wednesday,  two  hours  past  midnight. 
Your  very  affectionate,  good  sister, 
Mary. 


5.  Letter  of  R.  Wynkfield  to  Lord 
Burleigh.  (In  Dack :  Trial,  Execu- 
tion and  Death  of  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 
Northampton,  18S9,  p.  1  ff.  Spelling 
modernized  and  construction  occasion- 
ally simplified.) 

Feb.  8th,  1586.  (Counts  the  New 
Year  as  beginning  March  25.) 

It  being  certified  on  the  6th  of  Feb- 
ruary last  to  the  Queen  of  Scots  by  the 


Right  Honorable  Earl  of  Kent,  the 
Earl  of  Shrewesbury,  and  also  by  Sir 
Amyas  Paulett  and  Sir  Dru  Drury,  her 
governors,  that  she  was  to  prepare  her- 
self to  die  the  eighth  of  February  then 
next  coming,  she,  seeming  not  to  be  in 
any  terror,  by  aught  that  appeared 
from  any  outward  gestm'e  or  behavior, 
of  how  they  were  planning  that  she 
should  die,  but  rather  with  smiling 
cheer  and  pleasant  countenance  di- 
gested and  accepted  the  said  admoni- 
tion of  pi*eparing  for  Paradise.  .  .  . 
The  said  8th  of  February  came  and 
the  time  and  place  appointed  for  the 
execution  as  aforesaid  of  the  Queen  of 
Scots.  She  was  of  stature  tall  and 
body  corpulent,  round-shouldered,  her 
face  fat  and  broad,  double-chinned  and 
with  hazel  eyes,  her  borrowed  hair  au- 
burn. Her  attire  was  this :  on  her 
head  she  had  a  dressing  of  lawn  edged 
with  bone  lace,  a  pomander  chain  and 
an  Agnus  Dei  about  her  neck,  a  cruci- 
fix in  her  hand,  a  pair  of  beads  at  her 
girdle  with  a  golden  cross  at  the  end  of 
them,  a  veil  of  lawn  fastened  to  her 
cowl  bowed  out  with  wire  and  edged 
round  about  with  bone  lace.  Her 
gown  was  of  black  satin,  printed,  with 
a  train  and  long  sleeves  to  the  ground 
set  with  acorn  buttons  of  jet  trimmed 
with  pearls,  and  short  sleeves  of  black 
satin  cut  with  a  pair  of  sleeves  of  pur- 
ple velvet  whole  under  them.  Her 
kirtle  was  whole  of  fine  figured  black 
satin ;  the  upper  bodice  of  her  petti- 
coat unlaced  in  the  back,  of  crimson 
velvet;  her  shoes  of  Spanish  leather 
with  the  rough  side  outward  ;  a  pair  of 
green  silk  garters,  her  stockings  of 
pale-blue  colored  worsted,  clocked 
with  silver  and  edged  on  the  tops  with 
silver,  and  next  her  legs  a  pair  of  white 
Jersey  hose. 

The  Queen,  thus  apparelled,  in  a 
kind  of  joy,  without  any  desire  of  de- 
ferring  of    matters   or   time,    departed 


14 


Elizabeth 


her  chamber  and  very  willingly  bended 
her  steps  towards  the  place  of  execu- 
tion, being  gently  carried  out  of  her 
said  chamber  into  an  entry  next  out  of 
the  said  great  hall  by  two  of  Sir  A. 
Paulett  his  chiefest  gentlemen.  Mr. 
Andrews,  the  high  sheriff,  went  before 
her.  In  the  entry  the  honorable  Earl 
of  Kent  and  the  Earl  of  Shrewesbury, 
commissioners  appointed  by  her  Ma- 
jesty for  the  said  execution,  together 
with  the  two  governors  of  her  person, 
Sir  A.  Paulett  and  Sir  Dru  Drury  and 
divers  knights  and  gentlemen  of  good 
account  did  meet  her,  where  one  of  the 
said  Queen's  servants,  named  Melville, 
kneeling  on  his  knees  to  the  said 
Queen,  his  mistress,  wringing  his 
hands  and  shedding  of  many  tears, 
used  then  and  there  these  words  unto 
her,  saying:  "Madame,  unhappy  me! 
What  man  on  earth  was  ever  before 
the  messenger  of  such  important  sor- 
row and  heaviness  as  I  shall  be  when  I 
shall  report  that  my  good  and  gracious 
Queen  and  mistress  is  beheaded  in  Eng- 
land !  "  This  said,  tears  prevented 
him  of  further  speaking;  whereupon 
the  said  Queen,  pouring  out  of  her 
dying  tears,  thus  answered  him  :  "  My 
good  friend,  cease  to  lament,  for  thou 
hast  cause  rather  to  joy  than  to  mourn ; 
for  now  shalt  thou  see  Mary  Stuart's 
troubles  receive  their  long-expected 
end  and  determination:  for  (said  she), 
good  servant,  all  the  world  is  but  van- 
ity and  subject  still  to  more  sorrow 
than  a  whole  ocean  of  tears  can  be- 
wail. But  I  pray  (she  said)  thee 
carry  this  message  from  me,  that  I 
died  a  true  woman  to  my  religion  and 
like  a  true  woman  of  Scotland  and 
France;  but  God  forgive  them  (said 
she)  that  have  long  desired  my  end  and 
thirsted  for  my  blood  as  the  Hart  doth 
the  water-brooks."   .   .   . 

After  this  the  said  Queen,  being  sup- 
ported by  Sir  A.  Paulett  and  two  gen- 


tlemen as  aforesaid,  Melville  carrying 
up  her  train,  being  accompanied  by  the 
Earl  of  Kent  and  gentlemen  and  the 
Sheriff  going  before  her  as  aforesaid, 
passed  out  of  the  entry  into  a  hall 
within  the  said  Castle  of  Fotheringay 
before  mentioned,  with  a  countenance 
unappalled  then  and  there  made  for  her 
death,  stepped  up  to  the  scaffold  in  the 
said  hall,  being  two  foot  high  and 
twelve  broad,  with  rails  round  about  it 
hanged  and  covered  with  black.  Then 
having  the  stool  brought  her  she  sat 
down,  and  on  the  right  hand  of  her 
stood  the  Earl  of  Kent  and  the  Earl  of 
Shrewesbury,  on  the  left  hand  Mr.  An- 
drews the  Sheriff  ;  and  opposite  against 
her  stood  the  two  executioners,  and 
round  about  the  rails  of  the  Scaffold 
stood  Knights,  gents  and  others ;  then 
silence  being  made  the  Queen  Maj- 
esty's commission  for  the  execution 
was  read.  During  the  reading  of  which 
said  commission  the  said  Queen  was 
very  silent,  listening  to  it  with  so  care- 
less a  regard  as  though  it  had  not  con- 
cerned her  at  all.  Nay,  rather,  with 
so  merry  and  cheerful  a  countenance  as 
if  it  had  been  a  pardon  from  her  Maj- 
esty for  her  life.    .   .   . 

Then  the  two  executioners  kneeled 
down  unto  her  and  desired  her  to  for- 
give them  her  death.  She  answered, 
"  I  forgive  you  with  all  my  heart,  for  I 
hope  that  this  death  shall  give  me  an 
end  to  all  my  troubles."  Then  they, 
with  her  two  women,  helping  her  up 
began  to  disrobe  her  ;  and  then  she  laid 
the  crucifix  upon  the  stool  and  one  of 
the  executioners  took  from  her  neck  the 
Agnus  Dei.  And  then  she  began  to 
lay  hold  on  it,  saying  she  would  give  it 
to  some  of  her  women,  and  withal  told 
the  executioner  he  should  have  money 
for  it.  Then  she  suffered  him,  with 
her  two  women,  to  take  off  her  chain 
of  pomander  beads  and  all  her  other 
apparel,  and  that  with  a  kind  of  glad- 


Elizabeth 


15 


ness ;  and  smiling  she  began  to  make 
herself  unready,  putting  on  a  pair  of 
sleeves  with  her  own  hands  which  the 
executioner  rudely  had  before  put  off, 
and  that  with  such  speed  as  if  she  had 
longed  to  be  gone  out  of  the  world. 
During  all  these  actions  of  disrobing  of 
the  said  Queen  she  never  altered  her 
countenance,  but,  smiling  as  it  were, 
said  she  never  had  such  grooms  before 
to  make  her  unready,  nor  ever  did  put 
off  her  clothes  before  such  a  company. 
At  length,  she  being  untired  of  such  of 
her  attire  and  apparel  as  was  conven- 
ient, saving  her  petticoat  and  kirtle,  her 
two  women,  looking  upon  her,  burst 
out  into  a  very  great  and  pitiful  weep- 
ing, crying  and  lamenting ;  and  when 
their  crying  and  shrieking  began  to  de- 
cline they  crossed  themselves  and  prayed 
in  Latin. 

Then  the  said  Queen,  turning  her- 
self unto  them  and  seeing  them  in  such 
a  lamentable  and  mournful  plight,  em- 
braced them  and  said  these  words  in 
French,  crossing  them  and  kissing 
them,  "You  ought  rather  to  pray  for 
me  and  not  to  be  so  mournful,  for  (said 
she)  this  day  I  trust  shall  end  your 
mistress's  troubles."  Then  with  a 
smiling  countenance  she  turned  herself 
to  her  men-servants,  Melville  and  the 
rest  standing  upon  a  bench  near  unto 
the  scaffold,  who  were  for  some  time 
crying  out  aloud  and  continually  cross- 
ing themselves  and  praying  in  Latin, — 
and  the  said  Queen  turned  unto  them 
and  did  herself  likewise  cross  them  and 
bid  them  farewell,  and  prayed  them 
to  pray  for  her  even  unto  the  last  hour. 
This  done,  one  of  her  women  having 
a  Corpus  Christi  cloth  lapped  it  up 
three-cornered  ways,  and  kissed  it  and 
put  it  over  the  face  of  her  Queen  and 
mistress  and  pinned  it  fast  upon  the 
crown  of  her  head.  Then  the  two 
women  mournfully  departed  from  her. 
And  then  the  said  Queen  kneeled  down  ; 


at  which  time,  very  resolute  and  with- 
out  any  token   of   fear   of   death,  she 
spake  aloud  this  psalm  in  Latin,  "In 
te    Domine    confido    ne    confundar   in 
eternum."        Then    groping     for     the 
block  she  laid  down  her  head,  putting 
her  chain  upon  the  block  with  both  her 
hands,  which  holding   there    still  they 
had  been  cut  off  had  they  not  been  es- 
pied.    Then  she  laid  herself  upon  the 
block   most   quietly  and   stretched  out 
her  arms  and  legs  and  cried  out,  "In 
manus    tuas    Domini,"    three   or   four 
times.     And  at  the  last,  while  one  of 
the  executioners  held  her  slightly  with 
one  of    his  hands,  the  other  gave  two 
strokes  with  an  axe  before  he  did  cut 
off  her  head  and  yet  left  a  little  gristle 
behind  ;   at  which  time  she  made  very 
small  noise  and  stirred  not  any  pait  of 
herself  from  the  place  where  she  lay. 
Then  the  executioner  that  cut  off  her 
head  lifted  it  up  and  bade  God  save  the 
Queen.    Then  her  dressing  of  lawn  fell 
from  her  head,  which  appeared  as  gray 
as  if  she  had  been  3^  score  years  old, 
pawled  [cut]  very  short,  her  face  being 
in  a  moment  so  much  altered  from  the 
form    which    she   had    when    she    was 
alive  as  few  could   remember  her  by 
her  dead  face.      Her  lips  stirred  up  and 
down  almost  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after 
her  head  was  cut  off.     Then  said  Mr. 
Dean,  "  So  perish  all  the  Queen's  ene- 
mies ;  "    afterwards   the  Earl  of    Kent 
came  to   the  dead  body,  and  standing 
over  it  with  a  loud  voice  said  likewise, 
"  Such  an  end  happen  to  the  Queen  and 
the   gospel's  enemies."      Then  one  of 
the  executioners,  plucking  off  her  gar- 
ters, espied   her  little  dog   which   was 
crept  under  her  clothes,  which  would 
not  be  gotten  forth  but  with  force,  and 
afterwards  would  not  depart  from  the 
dead  corpse  but  came  and  lay  between 
her  head  and  shoulders, — a  thing  dili- 
gently   noted.      The    same    dog,   being 
imbrued  in  her  blood,  was  carried  away 


i6 


Elizabeth 


and  washed,  as  all  things  else  were  that 
had  any  blood  unless  those  things  that 
were  burned.  The  executioners  were 
sent  away  with  money  for  their  fees, 
not  having  anything  that  belonged  unto 
her.  Afterwards  everyone  was  com- 
manded forth  of  the  hall  saving  the 
sheriff  and  his  men,  who  carried  her 
up  into  a  great  chamber  made  ready 
for  the  surgeons  to  embalm  her,  and 
was  embalmed. 

And  thus  I  hope,  my  very  good  Lord 
(Burleigh),  I  have  certified  unto  your 
Honor  of  all  such  actions,  matters  and 
circumstances  as  did  proceed  from  her 
or  any  others  at  her  death.  Wherein  I 
dare  promise  unto  your  good  Lord  :  if 
not  in  some  better  or  worse  words  than 
were  spoken  I  have  somewhat  mis- 
taken, in  matters  I  have  not  any  whit 
offended.  I  will  not  so  justify  my  duty 
herein  but  that  many  things  might  well 
have  been  omitted  as  not  worthy  not- 
ing; yet  because  it  is  your  Lordship's 
fault  to  desire  to  know  all  and  so  I  have 
certified  it,  it  is  an  offence  pardonable. 
So  resting  at  your  Honor's  farther 
commands,  I  take  my  leave  this  nth 
of  February,  1586(7). 

Your  Honor's  in  all  humble  service 
to  command, 

R.  Wynkfield. 


6.  Letter  of  Queen  Elizabeth  to  King 
James  the  Sixth,  disavowing  her  having 
caused  the  execution  of  the  Queen  of 
Scots.  (In  Ellis,  Original  Letters, 
First  Series;  Vol.  III.  p.  22.)  Mod- 
ernized spelling. 

Feb.  14,  1586. 
My  dear  Brother,  I  would  you  knew 
(though  not  felt)  the  extreme  dolor 
that  overwhelms  my  mind,  for  that 
miserable  accident  which  (far  contrary 
to  my  meaning)  hath  befallen.  I  have 
now  sent  this  kinsman  of  mine  whom, 
ere  now,  it  hath  pleased  you  to  favor, 
to  instruct  vou  trulv  of   that  which  is 


too  irksome  for  my  pen  to  tell  you.  I 
beseech  you  that  as  God  and  many 
more  know  how  innocent  I  am  in  this 
case  :  so  you  will  believe  me,  that  if  I 
had  bid  (directed)  ought  I  would  have 
bided  by  it.  I  am  not  so  base  minded 
that  fear  of  any  living  creature  or  prince 
should  make  me  afraid  to  do  that  were 
just,  or  done,  to  deny  the  same.  I  am 
not  of  so  base  a  lineage,  nor  carry  so 
vile  a  mind.  But,  as  not  to  disguise 
fits  not  a  king,  so  will  I  never  dissemble 
my  actions,  but  cause  them  show  even 
as  I  meant  them.  Thus  assuring  your- 
self of  me,  that  as  I  know  this  was 
deserved,  yet  if  I  had  meant  it  I  would 
never  lay  it  on  other  shoulders ;  no 
more  will  I  not  damnify  my  self,  that 
thought  it  not. 

The  circumstance  it  may  please  you 
to  have  of  this  bearer.  And  for  your 
part,  think  you  have  not  in  the  world 
a  more  loving  kinswoman,  nor  a  more 
dear  friend  than  myself ;  nor  any  that 
will  watch  more  carefully  to  preserve 
you  and  your  estate.  And  who  shall 
otherwise  persuade  you,  judge  them 
more  partial  to  others  than  you.  And 
thus  in  haste  I  leave  to  trouble  you  : 
beseeching  God  to  send  you  a  long 
reign.     The  14th  of  Feb.,  15S6. 

Your  most  assured  loving  sister  and 
cousin,  Elizab.  R. 


7.  Extract  from  the  Memoirs  of 
Robert  Cary  [Edinburgh,  1808],  the 
Bearer  of  the  above  Letter. 

The  next  year  (which  was  1586)  was 
the  Queen  of  Scots'  beheading,  ...  at 
which  time  (few  or  none  in  the  court 
being  willing  to  undertake  that  journey) 
her  Majesty  sent  me  to  the  King  of 
Scots,  to  make  known  her  innocence 
of  her  sister's  death,  with  letters  of 
credence  from  herself  to  assure  all  that 
I  should  affirm. 

I  was  waylaid  in  Scotland,  if  I  had 
gone  in,    to  have  been  murdered;  but 


Elizabeth 


17 


the  king's  majesty,  knowing  the  dis- 
position of  his  people  [which  he  evi- 
dently did  not  share!  Ed.]  and  the 
fury  they  were  in,  sent  to  me  to  Ber- 
wick, to  let  me  know  that  no  power  of 
his  could  warrant  my  life  at  that  time  ; 
therefore,  to  prevent  further  mischief, 
he  would  send  me  no  convoy,  but 
would  send  two  of  his  counsel  to  the 
bound  road  to  receive  my  letters,  or 
what  other  message  I  had  to  deliver. 
.  .  .  Sir  George  Hume  and  the  master 
of  Melven  met  me  at  the  bound  road, 
where  I  delivered  my  message  in 
writing,  and  my  letters  from  the  Queen 
to  the  King.   .   .   . 

8.   Letter  of  James  to  Elizabeth  (in 
Camden  Soc.  publication). 

March,  1586-7. 
Madam  and  dearest  sister,  Whereas 
by  your  letter  and  bearer,  Robert  Cary, 
your  servant  and  ambassador,  you 
purge  yourself  of  yon  unhappy  fact . 
As,  on  the  one  part,  considering  your 
rank  and  sex,  consanguinity  and  long- 
professed  goodwill  to  the  defunct,  to- 
gether with  your  many  and  solemn 
attestations  of  your  innocency,  I  dare 
not  wrong  you  so  far  as  not  to  judge 
honorably  of  your  unspotted  part  there- 
in ;  so,  on  the  other  side,  I  wish  that 
your  honorable  behaviour  in  all  times 
hereafter  may  fully  persuade  the  whole 
world  of  the  same.  And,  as  for  my 
part,  I  look  that  you  will  give  me  at 
this  time  such  a  full  satisfaction  [he 
later  accepted  a  pension.  Ed.]  as 
shall  be  a  means  to  strengthen  and 
unite  this  isle.   .   .    . 


9.   Letter  of  Elizabeth  to  James. 
May,  1588. 

My  pen,  my  dear  brother,  hath  re- 
mained so  long  dry  as  [that]  I  suppose 
it  hardly  would  have  taken  ink  again, 
but,  mollified  by  the  good  justice  that 


you  have  been  pleased  to  execute,  to- 
gether with  the  large  assurance  that  your 
words  have  given  to  some  of  my  min- 
isters :  Which  all  doth  make  me  ready 
to  drink  most  willingly  a  large 
draught  of  the  river  of  Lethe,  never 
minding  to  think  of  unkindness.  .  .  . 
God  the  seaixher  of  all  hearts  ever  so 
have  misericord  of  my  soul  as  my  in- 
nocency in  that  ?natter  deserveth,  and 
no  otherwise ;  which  invocation  were 
too  dangeious  for  a  guilty  conscience. 
.  .  .  You  may  the  more  soundly  trust 
my  vows,  for  never  yet  were  they 
stained,  neither  will  I  make  you  the  first 
on  whom  I  shall  bestow  untruth,  which 
God  will  not  suffer  me  live  unto. 

10.  Extract  from  Wilson  :  Life  and 
Reign  of  James  I.  (In  Kenneth,  Vol. 
II.  p.  689.) 

And  now  the  King  [James  has  be- 
come King  of  England]  casts  his 
thoughts  towards  Peterborough,  where 
his  mother  lay,  whom  he  caused  to  be 
translated  to  a  magnificent  tomb  at 
Westminster,  and  (somewhat  suitable 
to  her  mind  when  she  was  living)  she 
had  a  translucent  passage  in  the  night 
through  the  city  of  London  *by  multi- 
tudes of  torches ;  the  tapers  placed  by 
the  tomb  and  the  altar  in  the  cathedral 
smoking  with  them  like  an  offertory ; 
with  all  the  ceremonies  and  voices  their 
choirs  and  copes  could  express ;  at- 
tended by  many  prelates  and  nobles  who 
paid  this  last  tribute  to  her  memory. 
This  was  accounted  a  piaculous  action 
of  the  King's  by  many;  though  some 
have  not  stuck  to  say  that,  as  Queen 
Elizabeth  was  willing  to  be  rid  of  the 
Queen  of  Scots,  yet  would  not  have 
it  of  her  action  ;  and  being  it  could  not 
be  done  without  her  command,  when  it 
was  done  she  renounced  her  own  act. 
So,  though  the  King  was  angry  when 
he  heard  his  mother  was  taken  away  by 


i8 


Elizabeth 


a  violent  death,  recalling  his  ambassa- 
dor, threatening  war  and  making  a 
great  noise,  which  was  after  calmed 
and  closed  up  with  a  large  pension 
from  the  Queen,  yet  he  might  well 
enough  be  pleased  that  such  a  spirit 
was  laid  as  might  have  conjured  up 
three  kingdoms  against  him.      For  Pat- 


rick Grey,  that  the  King  sent  to  dis- 
suade Queen  Elizabeth  from  taking 
away  his  mother' s  life,  was  the  great- 
est instrument  to  persuade  her  to  ity 
distilling  always  into  her  this  sen- 
tence, *'  Mortua  non  mordet"  (when 
she  is  dead  she  cannot  bite). 


GROUP   III. 

THE    SPANISH    ARMADA. 

(From   State    Papers,   Navy  Records   Society,   18Q4. ) 


1.   Letter    o£    Admiral     Howard    to 
Secretary  Walsyngham. 

March  9th,  1587-8. 
Sir :  As  I  had  made  up  my  other 
letter,  Captain  Frobisher  doth  advertise 
me  that  he  spake  with  two  ships  that 
came  presently  from  Lisbon,  who  de- 
clared unto  him  that  for  certainty  the 
King  of  Spain's  fleet  doth  part  from 
Lisbon  unto  the  Groyne  the  15th  of 
this  month  by  their  account.  Sir,  there 
is  none  that  comes  from  Spain  but 
brings  this  advertisement ;  and  if  it  be 
true,  I  am  afraid  it  will  not  be  helped 
when  the*  time  serveth.  Surely  this 
charge  that  her  Majesty  is  at  is  either 
too  much  or  too  little ;  and  the  stay 
that  is  made  of  Sir  Francis  Drake  going 
out  I  am  afraid  will  breed  great  peril. 


2.  Letter  of  Sir  Francis  Drake  to 
the  Council. 

March  30th. 

.  .  .  My  very  good  Lords,  next 
under  God's  mighty  protection  the  ad- 
vantage and  gain  of  time  and  place 
will  be  the  only  and  chief  means  for 
our  good ;  wherein  I  most  humbly  be- 
seech your  good  Lordships  to  persevere 
as  you  have  began,  for  that  with  fifty 
sail  of  shipping  we  shall  do  more  good 


upon  their  own  coast,  than  a  great  many 
more  will  do  here  at  home ;  and  the 
sooner  we  are  gone,  the  better  we  shall 
be  able  to  impeach  them. 

There  is  come  home,  since  the  send- 
ing away  of  my  last  messenger,  one 
bark  whom  I  sent  out  as  an  espial,  who 
confirmeth  those  intelligences  whereof 
I  have  advertised  your  Lordships  by 
him  ;  and  that  divers  of  those  Biscayans 
are  abroad  upon  that  coast  wearing 
English  flags,  whereof  there  are  made 
in  Lisbon  three  hundred  with  the  red 
cross,  which  is  a  great  presumption, 
proceeding  of  the  haughtiness  and  pride 
of  the  Spaniard,  and  not  to  be  tolerated 
by  any  true,  natural  English  heart. 


3.   Letter  of  Drake  to  the  Queen. 
April  28th. 

Most  gracious  Sovereign  :  Sithence 
my  last  despatch  of  Mr.  Stallenge  to 
the  court,  I  have  three  sundry  ways 
received  advertisements  that  the  enemy 
continueth  his  preparations  very  might- 
ily. The  first  report  cometh  by  a  man 
of  Dartmouth  who  very  lately  came 
from  St.  Malos,  and  saith  that  he  heard 
it  reported  there  by  divers  Frenchmen 
returned    home    from   Spain   overland, 


Elizabeth 


that  fifteen  ships  of  that  town,  and  as 
many  at  least  of  Rosco,  besides  many 
more  of  divers  nations,  are  stayed 
there;  affirming  that  their  fleet  is  in 
number  between  four  and  five  hundred 
sail,  ready  furnished  with  seventy  or 
eighty  thousand  soldiers  and  mariners  ; 
and  that  for  their  better  encouragement 
the  wages  of  all  the  companies  is  ad- 
vanced.  .   .   . 


4.   Letters  of  Howard  to  Walsynham. 

June  14th. 

.  .  .  The  opinion  of  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  Mr.  Hawkyns,  Mr.  Frobiser 
and  others  that  be  men  of  greatest  judg- 
ment and  experience,  as  also  my  own 
concurring  with  them  in  the  same,  is 
that  the  surest  way  to  meet  with  the 
Spanish  fleet  is  upon  their  own  coast, 
or  in  any  harbour  of  their  own,  and 
there  to  defeat  them.   .    .   . 

Sir,  we  have  endured  these  three 
days,  Wednesday,  Thursday  and 
Friday,  an  extreme  continual  storm. 
Myself,  and  four  or  five  of  the  greatest 
ships,  have  ridden  it  out  in  the  Sound, 
because  we  had  no  room  in  Catwater, 
for  the  lesser  ships  that  were  there ; 
nor  betwixt  the  shore  and  the  Island, 
because  Sir  Francis  Drake,  with  four 
or  five  other  ships  did  ride  there.  My- 
self and  my  company  in  these  ships  do 
continually  tarry  and  lie  aboard  in  all 
the  storm,  where  we  may  compare  that 
we  have  danced  as  lustily  as  the  gal- 
lantest  dancers  in  the  Court.  Her 
Majesty  may  be  sure,  what  false  and 
villainous  reports  soever  have  been  made 
of  them,  she  hath  the  strongest  ships 
that  any  prince  in  Christendom  hath. 
.  .  .  Sir,  I  must  not  omit  to  let  you 
know  how  lovingly  and  kindly  Sir 
Francis  Drake  beareth  himself;  and 
also  how  dutifully  to  her  Majesty's  ser- 
vice and  unto  me,  being  in  the  place 
I  am    in ;    which   I  pray  you    he  may 


receive    thanks    for,    by    some    private 
letter  from  you.   .    .   . 

Howard   to    Walsyngham. 

July  6th. 

.  .  .  Sir,  I  sent  a  fine  Spanish  cara- 
vel an  eight  days  agone  to  the  Groyne 
to  learn  intelligence,  such  a  one  as 
would  not  have  been  mistrusted  ;  but 
when  she  was  fifty  leagues  away,  this 
southerly  wind  forced  her  back  again 
unto  us.  Therefore  I  pray  you,  if  you 
hear  or  understand  of  any  news  or  ad- 
vertisements by  land,  that  I  may  hear 
of  them  from  you  with  expedition. 

I  have  divided  myself  here  into  three 
parts,  and  yet  we  lie  within  sight  one 
of  another,  so  as,  if  any  of  us  do  dis- 
cover the  Spanish  fleet,  we  give  notice 
thereof  presently  the  one  to  the  other, 
and  thereupon  repair  and  assemble  to- 
gether. I  myself  do  lie  in  the  middle 
of  the  Channel,  with  the  greatest  force. 
Sir  Francis  Drake  hath  twentv  ships 
and  four  or  five  pinnaces,  which  lie 
toward  Ushant ;  and  Mr.  Hawkyns, 
with  as  many  more,  lieth  towards  Scilly. 
Thus  are  we  fain  to  do,  else  with  this 
wind  they  might  pass  by  and  we  never 
the  wiser.  .  .  .  But  for  my  own  part 
I  cannot  persuade  myself  but  that  their 
intent  is  for  Ireland.  Where  there  are 
so  many  doubts  we  must  proceed  by  the 
likelier  ways,  and  leave  unto  God  to 
direct  for  the  best. 

Howard  to   Walsyngham. 

July  13th. 
...  I  am  very  sorry  to  perceive  by 
your  letter  that  her  Majesty  doth  think 
that  we  have  not  sufficiently  sought  to 
understand  some  certainty  of  the  Span- 
ish fleet.  Sir,  we  are  here  to  small 
purpose  for  this  great  service,  if  that 
hath  not  been  thought  of.  Both  before 
my  coming,  by  Sir  Francis  Drake,  and 
since  my  coming  there  hath  been  no 
day  but  there  hath  been  pinnaces, 
Spanish  caravels,  flyboats,  and   of    all 


20 


Elizabeth 


sorts,  sent  out  to  discover  there.  .  .  . 
We  have  at  this  time  four  pinnaces  on 
the  coast  of  Spain.  .  .  .  God  in  his 
mercy  keep  us  from  sickness,  for  we 
fear  that  more  than  any  hurt  that  the 
Spaniards  will  do  this  fleet,  if  the 
advertisements  be  true.    .    .   . 

Howard  to    Walsyngham. 

July  2  i  st. 

Sir  :  I  will  not  trouble  you  with  any 
long  letter ;  we  are  at  this  present 
otherwise  occupied  than  with  writing. 
Upon  Friday,  at  Plymouth,  I  received 
intelligence  that  there  were  a  great 
number  of  ships  descried  off  of  the 
Lizard,  whereupon,  although  the  wind 
was  very  scant,  we  first  warped  out  of 
harbour  that  night,  and  upon  Saturday 
turned  out  very  hardly,  the  wind  being 
at  southwest ;  and  about  three  of  the 
clock  in  the  afternoon  descried  the 
Spanish  fleet,  and  did  what  we  could 
to  work  for  the  wind,  which  by  this 
morning  we  had  recovered,  descrying 
their  fleet  to  consist  of  120  sail,  whereof 
there  are  4  galeasses  and  many  ships 
of  great  burden. 

At  nine  of  the  clock  we  gave  them 
fight,  which  continued  until  one.  In 
this  fight  we  made  some  of  them  to 
bear  room  to  stop  their  leaks ;  notwith- 
standing we  durst  not  adventure  to  put 
in  among  them,  their  fleet  being  so 
strong.  But  there  shall  be  nothing 
either  neglected  or.unhazarded  that  may 
work  their  overthrow. 

Sir,  the  captains  in  her  Majesty's 
ships  have  behaved  themselves  most 
bravely  and  like  men  hitherto,  and  I 
doubt  not  will  continue,  to  their  great 
commendation.  And  so,  recommend- 
ing our  good  success  to  your  godly 
prayers,  I  bid  you  heartily  farewell. 
From  aboard  the  Ark,  thwart  of  Ply- 
mouth, the  21st  of  July,  1588. 

Your  very  loving  friend, 

C.  Howard. 


Sir,  the  southerly  wind  that  brought 
us  back  from  the  coast  of  Spain  brought 
them  out.  God  blessed  us  with  turn- 
ing us  back.  Sir,  for  the  love  of  God 
and  our  country,  let  us  have  with  some 
speed  some  great  shot  sent  us  of  all 
bigness ;  for  this  service  will  continue 
long ;   and  some  powder  with  it. 


5.   Letter  of  Drake  to  Walsyngham. 

July  29th. 

Right  Honourable:  This  bearer  came 
aboard  the  ship  I  was  in  in  a  wonder- 
ful good  time,  and  brought  with  him 
as  good  knowledge  as  we  could  wish. 
His  carefulness  therein  is  worthy 
recompense,  for  that  God  hath  given 
us  so  good  a  day  in  forcing  the  enemy 
so  far  to  leeward,  as  I  hope  in  God  the 
Prince  of  Parma  and  the  Duke  of 
Sidonia  shall  not  shake  hands  this  few 
days  ;  and  whensoever  they  shall  meet, 
I  believe  neither  of  them  will  greatly 
rejoice  of  this  day's  service.  The 
town  of  Calais  hath  seen  some  part 
thereof,  whose  Mayor  her  Majesty  is 
beholden  unto.  Business  commands 
me  to  end.  God  bless  her  Majesty, 
our  gracious  Sovereign,  and  give  us  all 
grace  to  live  in  his  fear.  I  assure  your 
Honour  this  day's  service  hath  much 
appalled  the  enemy,  and  no  doubt  but 
encouraged  our  army.  From  aboard 
her  Majesty's  good  ship  the  Revenge, 
this  29th  of  July,  158S. 

Your  Honour's  most  ready  to  be 
commanded, 

Fra.  Drake. 

There  must  be  great  care  taken  to 
send  us  munition  and  victual  witherso- 
ever the  enemy  goeth.  Yours, 

Fra.  Drake. 


6.  Letter    of     Richard     Tomson    to 
Walsyngham. 

July  30th. 

Since  our  first  meeting  of  our  ene- 
mies, which  was  on  Sunday,  the  21st 


Elizabeth 


21 


of  this  present,  we  have  had  four  en- 
counters, such  as,  the  Lord  be  praised, 
hath  not  a  little  daunted  the  minds  of 
our  enemies,  but  much  impaired  their 
great  and  unexpected  forces,  and  to 
very  little  or  no  detriment  of  our  Eng- 
lish navy.  At  our  first  meeting  of 
them,  which  was  within  two  miles  of 
Looe  in  Cornwall,  they  were  136  sail 
of  ships  and  pinnaces,  whereof  90  were 
very  great  ships,  and  the  rest  of  smaller 
account ;  and  at  that  time  our  English 
navy  was  not  above  67  sail.  By  God's 
goodness  and  the  good  working  of  our 
commanders,  we  got  the  wind  of  them, 
which  is  a  very  great  advantage  and  a 
special  safety  for  the  weaker  part ;  and 
ever  since  God  hath  so  blessed  us  that 
we  have  kept  the  same,  to  the  great 
annoyance  of  our  enemies ;  and  by  that 
means  we  have  so  daily  pursued  them 
at  the  heels,  that  they  never  had  leisure 
to  stop  in  any  place  alongst  our  Eng- 
lish coast  until  they  came  within  two 
miles  of  Calais,  where  in  the  evening, 
very  politely,  they  came  all  upon  a 
sudden  to  an  anchor,  being  Saturday 
the  27th  day,  purposing  that  our  ships 
with  the  flood  should  be  driven  to  lee- 
ward of  them ;  but  in  happy  time  it 
was  soon  espied,  and  prevented  by 
bringing  our  fleet  to  an  anchor  also  in 
the  wind  of  them. 

The  same  night  they  sent  ashore  to 
Calais  and  forthwith  to  the  Duke  of 
Parma,  advertising  of  their  being  there  ; 
and  one  received  answer  that  he  with 
his  forces  would  be  in  readiness  upon 
Tuesday  following,  and  come  and  join 
with  them,  with  intent  to  come  over 
and  land  their  forces  in  England,  about 
Margate  in  Vrent,  as  since  I  have 
thoroughly  learnt  of  the  Spaniards  that 
were  taken  in  the  chief  galleass  that 
the  king  had,  hard  under  the  jetty  head 
at  Calais.  It  hath  appeared  by  many 
arguments  that  the  Spaniards  were  not 
evil  welcome  to  Monsieur  Gourdan  and 


the  rest  of  his  government,  by  permit- 
ting their  messengers  to  go  so  speedily 
between  the  Duke  and  that  place,  as 
also  by  suffering  the  boats  to  go  to  and 
from  the  shore  so  usually,  all  Sunday 
the  28th  of  July,  as  they  did;  and 
most  of  all,  by  sending  his  kinsman 
and  lieutenant  aboard  the  Duke  of  Me- 
dina with  a  great  present ;  whereof  no 
semblance  was  made  at  all  unto  our 
Lord  Admiral. 

It  pleased  my  Lord  Admiral  to  ap- 
point certain  small  ships  to  be  fired 
on  Sunday  about  12  of  the  clock  at 
night,  and  let  drive  with  the  flood 
amongst  the  Spaniards ;  which  prac- 
tice, God  be  thanked,  hath  since  turned 
to  our  great  good ;  for  it  caused  the 
Spaniards  to  let  slip  their  anchors  and 
cables,  and  confusedly  to  drive  one 
upon  another ;  whereby  they  were  not 
only  put  from  their  roadstead  and  place 
where  they  meant  to  attend  the  coming 
of  the  Duke  of  Parma,  but  did  much 
hurt  one  to  another  of  themselves  ;  and 
are  now,  by  the  earnest  pursuit  of  our 
Englishmen,  very  much  weakened  and 
dispersed,  the  Lord  be  praised,  so  that 
of  the  1 24  sail  that  they  were  in  Calais 
Road,  we  cannot  now  find  by  any 
account  above  86  ships  and  pinnaces ; 
so  that  I  cannot  conjecture  but  by  the 
furious  assault  that  my  Lord  and  his 
associates  gave  them  early  on  Monday 
morning,  and  did  continue  in  vehement 
manner  8  hours,  hath  laid  many  of 
them  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  or  else 
[caused  them  to]  run  with  the  coast  of 
Flanders  to  save  their  lives,  though  im- 
possible to  save  their  great  ships,  by 
reason  of  their  evil  harbours. 

At  the  break  of  day  upon  Monday 
morning,  my  Lord  and  all  the  fleet  set- 
ting sail  after  our  enemies,  we  espied 
riding  within  shot  of  the  town  of 
Calais  the  greatest  of  the  king's  galle- 
asses, the  rest  of  the  Spanish  fleet 
being  two   leagues  to  leeward  of  her. 


22 


Elizabeth 


My  Lord  Admiral  began  to  go  toward 
the  galleass  with  his  ship,  the  Ark,  but 
finding  the  water  to  be  shallow,  other 
ships  of  less  draught  bare  in  with  her 
and  shot  at  her,  whereupon  she  let  slip 
and  run  the  galleass  aground  hard  be- 
fore the  town. 

In  our  ship,  which  was  the  Margaret 
and  John  of  London,  we  approached 
so  near  that  we  came  on  ground  alsd ; 
but  afterwards  came  safely  off  again 
with  the  flood,  being  damaged  by  noth- 
ing but  by  the  town  of  Calais,  who,  off 
the  bulwarks,  shot  very  much  at  us, 
and  shot  our  ship  twice  through. 
And  the  like  powder  and  shot  did 
Monsieur  Gourdan  bestow  upon  sun- 
dry of  our  countrymen,  and  make  us 
relinquish  the  galleass,  which  other- 
wise we  had  brought  away,  being  mas- 
ters of  her  above  two  hours,  and  gotten 
by  hard  assault,  to  the  great  credit  of 
our  country,  if  Monsieur  Gourdan 
herein  had  not  shown  his  affection  to 
the  Spaniards  to  be  greater  than  our 
nation,  or  seemed  by  force  to  wrest 
from  us  that  which  we  had  gotten  with 
bloody  heads. 

My  Lord  Admiral,  seeing  he  could 
not  approach  the  galleass  with  his 
ship,  sent  off  his  long  boat  unto  her 
with  50  or  60  men,  amongst  whom 
were  many  gentlemen  as  valiant  in 
courage  as  gentle  in  birth,  as  they  well 
showed.  The  like  did  our  ship  send 
off  her  pinnace,  with  certain  musket- 
eers, amongst  whom  myself  went. 
These  two  boats  came  hard  under  the 
galleass  sides,  being  aground,  where 
we  continued  a  pretty  skirmish  with 
our  small  shot  against  theirs,  they  being 
ensconced  within  their  ship  and  very 
high  over  us,  we  in  our  open  pinnaces 
and  far  under  them,  having  nothing  to 
shroud  and  cover  us ;  they  being  300 
soldiers,  besides  450  slaves,  and  we 
not,  at  the  instant,  100  persons.  With- 
in one   half    hour   it   pleased   God,  by 


killing  the  captain  with  a  musket  shot, 
to  give  us  victory  above  all  hope  or  ex- 
pectation ;  for  the  soldiers  leaped  over- 
board by  heaps  on  the  other  side,  and 
fled  with  the  shore,  swimming  and 
wading.  Some  escaped  with  being 
wet ;  some,  and  that  very  many,  were 
drowned.  The  captain  of  her  was 
called  Don  Hugo  de  Moncada,  son  to 
the  viceroy  of  Valencia.  He  being 
slain,  and  the  most  part  of  their  sol- 
diers fled,  some  few  soldiers  remaining 
in  her,  seeing  our  English  boats  under 
her  sides  and  more  of  ours  coming 
rowing  towards  her,  some  with  10  and 
some  with  8  men  in  them,  for  all  the 
smallest  shipping  were  the  nearest  the 
shore,  put  up  two  handkerchiefs  upon 
two  rapiers,  signifying  that  they  desired 
truce.  Hereupon  we  entered,  with 
much  difficulty,  by  reason  of  her  height 
over  us,  and  possessed  us  of  her,  by 
the  space  of  an  hour  and  half  as  I 
judge  ;  each  man  seeking  his  benefit  of 
pillage  until  the  flood  came,  that  we 
might  haul  her  off  the  ground  and 
bring  her  away. 

It  may  please  your  Honour  to  under- 
stand that  during  our  fight  to  get  her, 
the  men  of  Calais  stood  in  multitudes 
upon  the  shore  hard  by  us  and  behold- 
ing all  things,  showing  themselves  at 
that  instant  indifferent  lookers-on  ;  but 
so  soon  as  they  saw  us  possessed  of  so 
princely  a  vessel,  the  very  glory  and 
stay  of  the  Spanish  army,  a  thing  of 
very  great  value  and  strength,  as  was 
well  known  to  them  of  Calais,  for  that 
they  had  been  on  board  twice  or  thrice 
the  day  before  ;  I  say,  Monsieur  Gour- 
dan, seeing  us  thus  possessed,  sent 
aboard  to  us  that  were  in  her,  in  which 
boat  came  his  kinsman  and  another 
captain,  desiring  to  parle  with  us. 
None  being  then  in  place  that  either 
understood  or  spake  French  but  myself, 
I  asked  them  from  whom  they  came. 
They  answered,  from  Monsieur  Gour- 


Elizabeth. 


23 


dan,  the  Governor  of  Calais.  I  de- 
manded to  know  what  his  pleasure  was. 
They  answered  that  he  had  stood  and 
beheld  our  fight  and  rejoiced  of  our 
victory,  saying  that  for  our  prowess  and 
manhood  showed  therein  we  had  well 
deserved  the  spoil  and  pillage  of  the 
galleass,  as  a  thing  due  unto  us  by 
desert,  and  that  he  willingly  consented 
that  we  should  have  the  pillage  of  her ; 
further  requiring  and  commanding  us 
n<»t  to  offer  to  carry  away  either  the 
ship  or  ordnance,  for  that  she  was  on 
ground  under  the  commandment  of  his 
castles  and  town,  and  therefore  did  of 
right  appertain  unto  him.  I  answered 
unto  them  that,  for  our  parts,  we 
thanked  Monsieur  Gourdan  for  grant- 
ing the  pillage  to  the  mariners  and 
soldiers  that  had  fought  for  the  same ; 
acknowledging  that  without  his  leave 
and  good  will  we  could  not  carry  away 
anything  of  that  we  had  gotten,  con- 
sidering it  lay  on  ground  hard  under  his 
bulwarks ;  and  that  as  concerning  the 
ship  and  ordnance,  we  prayed  it  would 
please  him  to  send  a  pinnace  aboard  my 
Lord  Admiral,  who  was  here  in  person 
hard  by,  from  whom  he  should  have  an 
honourable  and  friendly  answer  which 
we  all  are  to  obey  and  give  place  unto. 
With  this  answer,  to  my  seeming  they 
departed  well  satisfied  ;  but  since  I  have 
understood  that  some  of  our  rude  men, 
who  make  no  account  of  friend  or  foe, 
fell  to  spoiling  the  Frenchmen,  taking 
away  their  rings  and  jewels  as  from 
enemies ;  whereupon  going  ashore  and 
complaining,  all  the  bulwarks  and  ports 
were  bent  against  us,  and  shot  so 
vehemently  that  we  received  sundry 
shot  very  dangerously  through  us.  If 
this  have  not  incensed  Monsieur  Gour- 
dan, I  suppose  that  he  will  easily,  upon 
request  made,  either  surrender  all  or 
the  better  part  of  all  things  unto  her 
Majesty  ;  for  the  ship  cannot  be  so  little 
worth,    with    her    ordnance,  as    eighty 


thousand  crowns ;  having  in  her  four 
whole  cannons,  8  demi-cannons,  12 
culverins  and  demi-culverins,  16  sakers 
and  minions,  all  of  brass,  200  barrels  of 
powder,  and  of  all  other  things  great 
provision  and  plenty  ;  but  very  little  or 
no  treasure  that  I  can  learn  to  be  in  her. 
This  is  the  substance  and  very  truth 
of  all  that  passed  in  this  action.  Being 
thus  departed  from  the  galleasses,  my 
Lord  with  all  the  fleet  pursued  the 
enemy,  with  all  violent  pursuit  that  our 
ordnance  and  small  shot  could  yield ; 
little  to  our  hurt,  the  Lord  be  praised, 
but  greatly  to  the  detriment  of  the 
enemy,  as  the  bearer  hereof,  Mr.  John 
Watts  of  London,  can  amply  inform 
your  Honour ;  for  he  was  present  at 
the  doing  of  most  of  these  things 
happened  within  these  two  days,  not 
without  danger  enough  of  his  person 
both  of  cannon  and  musket  shot,  where- 
of his  apparel  beareth  some  tokens, 
although  it  pleased  God  to  spare  his  life. 
At  this  instant  we  are  as  far  to  the  east- 
ward as  the  Isle  of  Walcheren,  wherein 
Flushing  doth  stand,  and  about  12 
leagues  off  the  shore ;  and  the  wind 
hanging  westerly,  we  drive  our  enemies 
apace  to  the  eastward,  much  marveling, 
if  the  wind  continue,  in  what  port  they 
will  direct  themselves.  Some  imagine 
the  River  of  Hamburg,  which  is  a  bad 
place  for  the  receipt  of  ships  of  such 
charge ;  others  suppose,  because  they 
have  yet  provision  of  victuals  for  three 
months,  they  will  about  Scotland,  and 
so  for  Spain.  I  trust  her  Majesty  may, 
by  God's  help,  little  fear  any  invasion 
by  these  ships ;  their  power  being,  by 
battle,  mortality,  and  other  accidents,  so 
decayed,  and  those  that  are  left  alive  so 
weak  and  hurtless,  that  they  could  be 
well  content  to  lose  all  charges  to  be  at 
home,  both  rich  and  poor.  There  is 
want  of  powder,  shot  and  victual, 
amongst  us,  which  causeth  that  we  can- 
not so  daily  assault  them  as  we  would. 


24 


Elizabeth 


God  grant  the  want  may  in  time  be 
supplied,  that  so  necessary  a  service  be 
not  neglected  thereby.  Thus  I  take  my 
humble  leave  of  your  Honour,  to  whom 
Almighty  God  send  all  continuance  of 
health  and  increase  of  happiness. 
Subscribed, 

Richard  Tomson. 


make.     [The  fires  did,  however,  come 
from  their  own  vessels. — Ed.]   .   .   . 


7.  Letter  of  Sir  William  Wynter  to 
Walsyngham. 

August  1. 

.  .  .  Upon  Sunday,  being  the  28th 
day,  my  Lord  [Howard]  put  out  his 
flag  of  council  early  in  the  morning, 
the  armies  both  riding  still ;  and  after 
the  assembly  of  the  council  it  was  con- 
cluded that  the  practice  for  the  firing 
of  ships  should  be  put  in  execution  the 
night  following,  and  Sir  Henry  Palmer 
was  assigned  to  bear  over  presently  in 
a  pinnace  for  Dover,  to  bring  away 
such  vessels  as  were  fit  to  be  fired,  and 
materials  apt  to  take  fire.  But  because 
it  was  seen,  after  his  going,  he  could 
not  return  that  night,  and  occasion 
would  not  be  over  slipped,  it  was 
thought  meet  that  we  should  help  our- 
selves with  such  shipping  as  we  had 
there  to  serve  our  turn.  So  that,  about 
twelve  of  the  clock  that  night,  six  ships 
were  brought  and  prepared  [signalled] 
with  a  saker  shot,  and  going  in  a  front, 
having  the  wind  and  tide  with  them, 
and  their  ordnance  being  charged, 
were  fired  [z.  e.,  set  fire  to]  ;  and  the 
men  that  were  the  executors,  so  soon  as 
the  fire  was  made  they  did  abandon  the 
ships,  and  entered  into  five  boats  that 
were  appointed  for  the  saving  of  them. 
This  matter  did  put  such  terror  among 
the  Spanish  army  that  they  were  fain 
to  let  slip  their  cables  and  anchors ; 
and  did  work,  as  it  did  appear,  great 
mischief  among  them  by  reason  of  the 
suddenness  of  it.  We  might  perceive 
that  there  were  two  great  fires  more  than 
ours,  and  far  greater  and  huger  than 
any  of  our  vessels  that  we   fired  could 


8.  Letter  of  Howard  to  Lord  Burleigh. 
August  10. 

My  good  Lord  : — Sickness  and  mor- 
tality begins  wonderfully  to  grow 
among  us ;  and  it  is  a  most  pitiful  sight 
to  see,  here  at  Margate,  how  the  men, 
having  no  place  to  receive  them  into 
here,  die  in  the  streets.  I  am  driven 
myself,  of  force,  to  come  a-land,  to  see 
them  bestowed  in  some  lodging;  and 
the  best  I  can  get  is  barns  and  such  out- 
houses ;  and  the  relief  is  small  that  I  can 
provide  for  them  here  It  would  grieve 
any  man's  heart  to  see  them  that  have 
served  so  valiantly  to  die  so  miserably. 

The  Elizabeth  Jonas,  which  hath 
done  as  well  as  ever  any  ship  did  in 
any  service,  hath  had  a  great  infection 
in  her  from  the  beginning,  so  as  of  the 
500  men  which  she  carried  out,  by  the 
time  we  had  been  in  Plymouth  three 
weeks  or  a  month  there  were  dead  of 
them  200  and  above ;  so  as  I  was 
driven  to  set  all  the  rest  of  her  men 
ashore,  to  take  out  her  ballast,  and  to 
make  fires  in  her  of  wet  broom,  three 
or  four  days  together;  and  so  hoped 
thereby  to  have  cleansed  her  of  her 
infection  ;  and  thereupon  got  new  men, 
very  tall  and  able  as  ever  I  saw,  and 
put  them  into  her.  Now  the  infection 
is  broken  out  in  greater  extremity  than 
ever  it  did  before,  and  the  men  die 
and  sicken  faster  than  ever  they  did ; 
so  as  I  am  driven  of  force  to  send  her 
to  Chatham.  We  all  think  and  judge 
that  the  infection  remaineth  in  the 
pitch.  Sir  Roger  Townshend,  of  all 
the  men  he  brought  out  with  him,  hath 
but  one  left  alive.   .   .   . 


9.  Letter  of  Sir  R.   Bingham,  Gov- 
ernor of  Connaught,  to  the  Queen. 

Dec.  3rd,  1588. 
Most    gracious     and     dread     Sover- 


Elizabeth 


25 


eign :— My  long  silence  in  not  ac- 
quainting your  Majesty  with  the 
occurrents  of  this  your  Highness' s 
province  hath  proceeded  rather  through 
fear  to  offend  your  Majesty  by  pressing 
too  far  into  your  Highness' s  presence 
with  my  rude  and  uncomely  letters. 
.  .  .  Albeit  ...  I  have  adventured 
...  to  present  your  Highness  how 
with  these  humble  and  few  lines,  as  a 
thanksgiving  to  Almighty  God  for 
these  his  daily  preservations  of  your 
sacred  person,  and  the  continual  deliv- 
erance of  us,  your  Majesty's  subjects, 
from  the  cruel  and  bloody  hands  of 
your  Highness' s  enemies,  and  that 
lastly  from  the  danger  of  the  Spanish 
forces,  defeated  first  by  your  Majesty's 
navy  in  the  Narrow  Seas,  and  sithence 
overthrown  through  the  wonderful 
handiwork  of  Almighty  God,  by  great 
and  horrible  shipwrecks  upon  the 
coasts  of  this  realm,  and  most  upon  the 
parts  and  creeks  of  this  province  of 
Connaught,  where  it  hath  pleased  your 
Majesty  to  appoint  my  service  under 
your  Highness' s  Lord  Deputy.  Their 
loss  upon  this  province,  first  and  last, 
and  in  several  places,  was  twelve  ships, 
which  all  we  know  of,  and  some  two 
or  three  more  supposed  to  be  sunk  to 
seaboard  of  the  out  isles ;  the  men  of 
which  ships  did  all  perish  in  the  sea, 
save  the  number  of  1100  or  upward, 
which  we  put  to  the  sword ;  amongst 
whom  there  was  divers  gentlemen  of 
quality  and  service,  as  captains,  mas- 
ters of  ships,  lieutenants,  ensign- 
bearers,  other  inferior  officers  and 
young  gentlemen,  to  the  number  of 
some  fifty,  whose  names  I  have  for  the 
most  part  set  down  in  a  list,  and  have 
sent  the  same  unto  your  Majesty ; 
which  being  spared  from  the  sword  till 
order  might  be  had  from  the  Lord  Dep- 
uty how  to  proceed  against  them,  I 
had  special  direction  sent  me  to  see 
them  executed,  as  the  rest  were,  only 


reserving  alive  one,  Don  Luis  de  Cor- 
dova, and  a  young  gentleman,  his 
nephew,  till  your  Highness' s  pleasure 
be  known.  Other  gentlemen  of 
special  reckoning  we  had  none,  for  the 
Count  Paredes  and  Don  Alonzo  de 
Leyva,  with  other  gentlemen,  being 
thrown  ashore  in  Erris,  the  remotest 
place  in  all  this  province,  and  their 
ship  all  to  broken,  did  afterwards  by 
chance  embark  themselves  in  another 
of  their  ships  and  departed  to  sea ;  but 
being  again  driven  back  upon  the 
northern  coast  in  Ulster,  and  from 
thence  putting  to  sea  again,  are  sit- 
hence,  as  I  hear  say,  cast  away  about 
the  isles  going  for  Scotland.  My 
brother  George  had  one  Don  Graveillo 
de  Swasso  and  another  gentleman,  by 
license,  and  some  five  or  six  Dutch 
boys  and  young  men,  who  coming 
after  the  fury  and  heat  of  justice  was 
past,  by  entreaty  I  spared  them,  in 
respect  they  were  pressed  into  the 
fleet  against  their  wills,  and  did  dis- 
pose them  into  several  Englishmen's 
hands,  upon  good  assurance  that  they 
should  be  forthcoming  at  all  times. 
And  thus,  God  be  praised,  was  all  the 
province  quickly  rid  of  those  distressed 
enemies.  .  .  .  But  the  Lord  Deputy 
.  .  .  caused  both  these  two  Spaniards, 
which  my  brother  had,  to  be  executed, 
and  the  Dutchmen  and  boys  which 
were  spared  before,  reserving  none  but 
Don  Luis  and  his  nephew,  whom  I 
have  here.  I  was  glad  in  one  respect 
that  his  Lordship  should  take  his  way 
through  Connaught,  for  that  thereby 
he  might  the  better  satisfy  himself  of 
what  we  had  before  performed  here, 
and  accordingly  had  written  of.  Other 
wrecks  they  had  both  in  Munster  and 
Ulster,  which  being  out  of  my  charge, 
I  have  not  so  good  notice  of  .  .  . 
Your  Highness' s  most  loyal 
and  humble  soldier, 

Ry.  Bingham. 


26 


Elizabeth 


GROUP   IV. 

THE  END  OF  THE  REIGN  OF  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 


I.  Extract  from  Bishop  Goodman's 
"  Court  of  James  I."  (London,  1839.) 
Vol.  I.  p.  163. 

...  In  the  year  '88,  I  did  then  live 
at  the  upper  end  of  the  strand  near  St. 
Clement's  Church,  when  suddenly 
there  came  a  report  unto  us  (it  was  in 
December,  much  about  five  of  the 
clock  at  night,  very  dark)  that  the 
Queen  was  gone  to  council.,  and  if  you 
will  see  the  Queen  you  must  come 
quickly.  Then  we  all  ran  ;  when  the 
Court  gates  were  set  open,  and  no  man 
did  hinder  us  from  coming  in.  There 
we  came  where  there  was  a  far  greater 
company  than  was  usually  at  Lenten 
Sermons ;  and  when  we  had  staid 
there  an  hour  and  that  the  yard  was 
full,  there  being  a  number  of  torches, 
the  Queen  came  out  in  great  state. 
Then  we  cried:  "God  save  your  ma- 
jesty !  God  save  your  majesty  ! ' '  Then 
the  Queen  turned  unto  us  and  said, 
"  God  bless  you  all,  my  good  people  !  " 
Then  we  cried  again :  "  God  save  your 
Majesty!  God  save  your  Majesty!" 
Then  the  Queen  said  again  unto  us, 
"  You  may  well  have  a  greater  prince, 
but  you  shall  never  have  a  more  loving 
prince:"  and  so  looking  one  upon 
another  awhile  the  Queen  departed. 
This  wrought  such  an  impression  upon 
us,  for  shows  and  pageants  are  ever 
best  seen  by  torchlight,  that  all  the  way 
long  we  did  nothing  but  talk  what  an 
admirable  queen  she  was,  and  how  we 
would  adventure  our  lives  to  do  her 
service.  Now  this  was  in  a  year  when 
she  had  most  enemies,  and  how  easily 
might  they  have  then  gotten  into  the 
crowd  and  multitude  to  have  done  her 
a  mischief.     But  here  we  were  to  come 


in  at  the  Court  gates,  and  there  was  all 
the  danger  of  searching. 

Take  her  then  in  her  yearly  journeys 
at  her  coming  to  London,  where  you 
must  understand  that  she  did  desire  to 
be  seen  and  to  be  magnified ;  but  in 
her  old  age  she  had  not  only  wrinkles, 
but  she  had  a  goggle  throat — a  great 
gullet  hanging  out,  as  her  grandfather 
Henry  the  Seventh  is  ever  painted 
withal ;  for  in  young  people  the  glan- 
dels  do  make  all  things  seem  smooth 
and  fair,  but  in  old  people,  the  glandels 
being  shrunk,  the  gullet  doth  make  a 
little  deformity.  And,  truly,  there  was 
then  a  report  that  the  ladies  had  gotten 
false  looking-glasses,  that  the  Queen 
might  not  see  her  own  wrinkles ;  for 
having  been  exceeding  beautiful  and 
fair  in  her  youth,  such  beauties  are  ever 
aptest  for  wrinkles  in  old  age. 


2.  Extract  from  the  Memoirs  of 
Cary,  Earl  of  Monmouth.  (Published 
in  Edinborough,  1808.) 

1593.  [Cary  had  offended  Elizabeth 
by  marrying.] 

I  made  all  the  haste  I  could  to  court, 
which  was  then  at  Hampton  Court.  I 
arrived  there  on  St.  Stephen's  day  in 
the  afternoon.  Dirty  as  I  was,  I  came 
into  the  presence,  where  I  found  the 
lords  and  ladies  dancing.  The  Queen 
was  not  there.  My  father  [Lord  Huns- 
don]  went  to  the  Queen  to  let  her 
know  that  I  was  returned.  She  willed 
him  to  take  my  message  or  letters  and 
bring  them  to  her.  He  came  for  them, 
but  I  desired  him  to  excuse  me ;  for 
that  which  I  had  to  say,  either  by  word 
or  by  writing,  I  must  deliver  myself. 
.   .    .   He  acquainted  her  Majesty  with 


Elizabeth 


27 


my  resolution.  With  much  ado  I  was 
called  for  in  ;  and  I  was  left  alone  with 
her.  Our  first  encounter  was  stormy 
and  terrible,  which  I  passed  over  with 
silence.  After  she  had  spoken  her 
pleasure  of  me  and  my  wife,  I  told 
her  that  "  she  herself  was  the  fault  of 
my  marriage,  and  that  if  she  had  but 
graced  me  with  the  least  of  her  favours, 
I  had  never  left  her,  nor  her  court ; 
and  seeing  she  was  the  chief  cause  of 
my  misfortune,  I  would  never  off  my 
knees  till  I  had  kissed  her  hand,  and 
obtained  my  pardon."  She  was  not 
displeased  with  my  excuse,  and  before 
we  parted  we  grew  good  friends. 
Then  I  delivered  my  message  and  my 
papers,  which  she  took  very  well,  and 
at  last  gave  me  thanks  for  the  pains  I 
had  taken.  So  having  her  princely 
word  that  she  had  pardoned  and  for- 
gotten all  faults,  I  kissed  her  hand,  and 
come  forth  to  the  presence,  and  was  in 
the  court  as  I  was  ever  before. 


3.  Paul  Hentzer's  Journey  into  Eng- 
land in  1598.  (From  Fugitive  Pieces 
by  several  Author^.  Dublin,  1762. 
Page  266  ff.) 

Upon  taking  the  Air  down  the  River, 
the  first  Thing  that  struck  us,  was  the 
Ship  of  that  noble  Pirate,  Sir  Francis 
Drake,  in  which  he  is  said  to  have  sur- 
rounded this  Globe  of  Earth.  On  the 
left  Hand  lies  Ratcliffe,  a  considerable 
Suburb :  On  the  opposite  Shore  is 
fixed  a  long  Pole  with  Rams  horns 
upon  it,  the  intention  of  which  was 
vulgarly  said  to  be,  a  Reflexion  upon 
wilful  and  contented  Cuckolds. 

We  arrived  next  at  the  Royal  Palace 
of  Greenwich,  reported  to  have  been 
originally  build  by  Humphrey,  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  and  to  have  received 
very  magnificent  Additions  from  Henry 
VII.  It  was  here  Elizabeth,  the  pres- 
ent queen,  was  born,  and  here  she  gen- 


erally resides;  particularly  in  Summer, 
for  the  Delightfulness  of  its  Situation. 
We  were  admitted  by  an  Order  Mr. 
Rogers  had  procured  from  the  Lord 
Chamberlain,  into  the  Presence-Cham- 
ber,  hung  with  rich  Tapestry,  and  the 
Floor  after  the  English  Fashion,  strewed 
with  Hay,*  through  which  the  Queen 
commonly  passes  in  her  way  to  Chapel : 
At  the  Door  stood  a  Gentleman  dressed 
in  Velvet,  with  a  Gold  Chain,  whose 
Office  was  to  introduce  to  the  Queen 
any  Person  of  Distinction,  that  came  to 
wait  on  her :  It  was  Sunday,  when 
there  is  usually  the  greatest  Attendance 
of  Nobility.  In  the  same  Hall  were 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  the 
Bishop  of  London,  a  great  Number  of 
Councellors  of  State,  Officers  of  State, 
Officers  of  the  Crown,  and  Gentlemen, 
who  waited  the  Queen's  coming  out; 
which  she  did  from  her  own  Apart- 
ment, when  it  was  Time  to  go  to 
Prayers,  attended  in  the  following 
manner : — 

First  went  Gentlemen,  Barons,  Earls, 
Knights  of  the  Garter,  all  richly  dressed 
and  bareheaded ;  next  came  the  Chan- 
cellor, bearing  the  Seals  in  a  red  Silk 
Purse,  between  two :  One  of  which 
carried  the  Royal  Scepter,  the  other  the 
Sword  of  State,  in  a  red  scabbard, 
studded  with  golden  Fleurs  de  Lis,  the 
Point  upwards  :  Next  came  the  Queen, 
in  the  Sixty- fifth  year  of  her  Age,  as 
we  were  told,  very  Majestic  ;  her  Face 
oblong,  fair,  but  wrinkled ;  her  Eyes 
small,  yet  black  and  pleasant ;  her  Nose 
a  little  hooked;  her  Lips  narrow,  and 
her  Teeth  black  (a  Defect  the  English 
seem  subject  to,  from  their  too  great 
Use  of  Sugar)  ;  she  had  in  her  Ears 
two  Pearls,  with  very  rich  Drops ;  she 
wore  false  Hair,  and  that  red  ;  upon 
her  Head  she  had  a  small  Crown,  re- 
ported to  be  of  some  of  the  Gold  of  the 
celebrated     Lunebourg     Table :      Her 

*  He  probably  means  Rushes. 


28 


Elizabeth 


Bosom  was  uncovered,  as  all  the  Eng- 
lish Ladies  have  it,  till  they  marry ; 
and  she  had  on  a  Necklace  of  exceeding 
fine  Tewels;  her  Hands  were  small,  her 
Fingers  long  and  her  Stature  neither 
tall  nor  low ;  her  Air  was  stately,  her 
manner  of  speaking  mild  and  obliging. 
That  Day  she  was  dressed  in  white  Silk, 
bordered  with  Pearls  of  the  Size  of 
Beans,  and  over  it  a  Mantle  of  black 
Silk,  shot  with  silver  Threads ;  her 
Train  was  very  long,  the  End  of  it 
borne  by  a  Marchioness ;  instead  of  a 
Chain,  she  had  an  oblong  Collar  of 
Gold  and  Jewels.  As  she  went  along 
in  all  this  State  and  Magnificence,  she 
spoke  very  graciously,  first  to  one,  then 
to  another,  whether  foreign  Ministers, 
or  those  who  attended  for  different 
Reasons,  in  English,  French  and  Ital- 
ian ;  for,  besides  being  well  skilled  in 
Greek,  Latin  and  the  Languages  I  have 
mentioned,  she  is  Mistress  of  Spanish, 
Scotch  and  Dutch  :  Whoever  speaks 
to  her,  it  is  kneeling ;  now  and  then  she 
raises  some  with  her  Hand.  While  we 
were  there,  W.  Slawata,  a  Bohemian 
Baron,  had  letters  to  present  to  her ;  and 
she,  after  pulling  off  her  Glove,  gave 
him  her  right  Hand  to  kiss,  sparkling 
with  Rings  and  Jewels,  a  Mark  of  par- 
ticular Favour :  Wherever  she  turned 
her  Face,  as  she  was  going  along, 
everybody  fell  down  on  their  knees. 
The  Ladies  of  the  Court  followed  next 
to  her,  very  handsome  and  well-shaped, 
and  for  the  most  Part  dressed  in  white ; 
she  was  guarded  on  each  Side  by  the 
Gentlemen  Pensioners,  fifty  in  Number, 
with  gilt  Battleaxes.  In  the  Ante- 
chapel  next  the  Hall  where  we  were, 
Petitions  were  presented  to  her,  and 
she  received  them  most  graciously, 
which  occasioned  the  Acclamation  of, 
"  Long  live  Queen  Elizabeth!"  She 
answered  it  with,  "I  thank  you  my 
good  People."  In  the  Chapel  was  ex- 
cellent   Music ;    as   soon   as  it  and  the 


Service  was  over,  which  scarce  ex- 
ceeded half  an  Hour,  the  Queen  re- 
turned in  the  same  State  and  Order,  and 
prepared  to  go  to  Dinner.  But  while 
she  was  still  at  Prayers,  we  saw  her 
Table  set  out  with  the  following  So- 
lemnity. 

A  Gentleman  entered  the  Room  bear- 
ing a  Rod,  and  along  with  him  another 
who  had  a  Tablecloth,  which  after  they 
had  both  kneeled  three  Times,  with  the 
utmost  veneration,  he  spread  upon  the 
Table,  and  after  kneeling  again,  they 
both  retired.  Then  came  two  others, 
one  with  the  Rod  again,  the  other  with 
a  Salt-seller,  a  Plate  and  Bread  ;  when 
they  had  kneeled,  as  the  others  had 
done,  and  placed  what  was  brought 
upon  the  Table,  they  too  retired  with 
the  same  Ceremonies  performed  by  the 
first.  At  last  came  an  unmarried  Lady 
(we  were  told  she  was  a  Countess),  and 
along  with  her  a  married  one  bearing  a 
Tasting-knife  ;  the  former  was  dressed 
in  white  Silk ;  who,  when  she  had 
prostrated  herself  three  Times,  in  the 
most  graceful  Manner,  approached  the 
Table,  and  rubbed  the  Plates  with  Bread 
and  Salt,  with  as  much  Awe  as  if  the 
Queen  had  been  present.  When  they 
had  waited  there  a  little  while,  the  Yeo- 
men of  the  Guard  entered,  bareheaded, 
cloathed  in  Scarlet,  with  a  golden  Rose 
upon  their  Backs,  bringing  in  at  each 
Turn  a  Course  of  twenty-four  Dishes, 
served  in  Plate  most  of  it  Gilt ;  these 
Dishes  were  received  by  a  Gentleman 
in  the  same  Order  they  were  brought, 
and  placed  upon  the  Table,  while  the 
Lady  taster  gave  to  each  of  the  Guard 
a  mouthful  to  eat,  of  the  particular  Dish 
he  had  brought,  for  Fear  of  any  Poison. 
During  the  Time  that  this  Guard,  which 
consists  of  the  tallest  and  stoutest  Men 
that  can  be  found  in  England,  being 
carefully  selected  for  this  Service,  were 
bringing  Dinner,  twelve  Trumpets,  and 
two    Kettledrums    made  the  Hall  ring 


GuglielmoConteSlaua 

TACONS?  SECRETO  DI  St ATO, 

e  Cam?deeeImpebatoreFer= 

dinandoSecondo  Gran  Can 
cellierodelRegnodiBoemiaSc 


Elizabeth 


29 


for  half  an  Hour  together.  At  the  End 
of  this  Ceremonial  a  number  of  unmar- 
ried Ladies  appeared,  who,  with  par- 
ticular Solemnity,  lifted  the  Meat  off 
the  Table,  and  conveyed  it  into  the 
Queen's  inner  and  more  private  Cham- 
ber, where,  after  she  had  chosen  for 
herself,  the  rest  goes  to  the  Ladies  of 
the  Court. 

The  Queen  dines  and  sups  alone  with 
very  few  Attendants ;  and  it  is  very  sel- 
dom that  anybody,  Foreigner  or  Na- 
tive, is  admitted  at  that  Time,  and  then 
only  at  the  Intercession  of  somebody  in 
Power.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  We  left  London  in  a  coach  in 
order  to  see  the  remarkable  places  in 
its  neighborhood.   .    .   . 

Windsor,  a  Royal  Castle,  supposed 
to  have  been  begun  by  King  Arthur, 
its  buildings  much  increased  by  Ed- 
ward III.  The  Situation  is  entirely 
worthy  of  being  a  Royal  Residence,  a 
more  beautiful  being  scarce  to  be 
found  :  For  from  the  Brow  of  a  gentle 
Rising  it  enjoys  the  Prospect  of  an 
even  and  green  Country ;  its  Front 
commands  a  valley  extending  every 
Way,  and  chequered  with  arable  Lands 
and  Pasturage,  cloathed  up  and  down 
with  Groves,  and  watered  by  that  gen- 
tlest of  Rivers  the  Thames ;  behind 
the  several  Hills,  but  neither  steep  nor 
very  high,  crowned  with  Woods,  and 
seeming  designed  by  Nature  herself  for 
the  purpose  of  Hunting.   .   .   . 

This  Castle  besides  being  the  Royal 
Palace,  and  having  some  magnificent 
Tombs  of  the  Kings  of  England,  is 
famous  for  the  ceremonies  belonging  to 
the  Knights  of  the  Garter.  This  Order 
was  instituted  by  Edward  III.,  the  same 
who  triumphed  so  illustriously  over 
King  John  of  France.  The  Knights 
of  the  Garter  are  strictly  chosen  for 
their  military  Virtues,  and  Antiquity  of 
Family :  They  are  bound  by  solemn 
Oath  and  Vow  to  mutual  and  perpetual 


Friendship  among  themselves,  and  to 
the  not  avoiding  any  Danger  whatever, 
or  even  Death  itself,  to  support  by  their 
joint  Endeavours  the  Honour  of  the  So- 
ciety :  They  are  stiled,  Companions  of 
the  Garter,  from  their  wearing  below 
the  left  knee  a  purple  Garter,  inscribed 
in  letters  of  Gold,  with  "  Honi  soit  qui 
mal  y  pense,"  i.  <?.,  Evil  to  him  that 
evil  thinks:  This  they  wear  upon  the 
left  Leg,  in  Memory  of  one  which  hap- 
pening to  untie,  was  let  fall  by  a  great 
Lady,  passionately  beloved  by  Edward, 
while  she  was  dancing,  and  was  imme- 
diately snatched  up  by  the  King  ;  who, 
to  do  Honour  to  the  Lady,  not  out  of 
any  trifling  Gallantry,  but  with  a  most 
serious  and  honorable  Purpose,  dedi- 
cated it  to  the  Legs  of  the  most  distin- 
guished Nobility.  The  Ceremonies  of 
this  Society  are  celebrated  every  Year 
at  Windsor  on  St.  George's  Day,  the 
tutelar  Saint  of  the  Order,  the  King 
presiding;  and  the  Custom  is,  that  the 
Knights  Companions  should  hang  up 
their  Helmet  and  Shield,  with  their 
Arms  blazoned  on  it,  in  some  conspic- 
uous Part  of  the  Church.   .   .   . 

The  English  are  serious  like  the  Ger- 
mans, Lovers  of  Shew ;  liking  to  be 
followed  wherever  they  go  by  whole 
Troops  of  Servants,  who  wear  their 
Master's  Arms  in  Silver,  fastened  to 
their  left  Arms,  a  Ridicule  they  deserv- 
edly lay  under :  they  excel  in  Dancing 
and  Music,  for  they  are  active  and  live- 
ly, though  of  a  thicker  Make  than  the 
French ;  they  cut  their  Hair  close  on 
the  Middle  of  the  Head,  letting  it  grow 
on  either  Side  ;  they  are  good  Sailors, 
and  better  Pirates,  Cunning,  Treacher- 
ous and  Thievish  :  above  300  are  said  to 
be  hanged  annually  at  London ;  be- 
heading with  them  is  less  infamous 
than  hanging;  they  give  the  Wall  as 
the  Place  of  Honour ;  hawking  is  the 
general  Sport  of  the  Gentry ;  they  are 
more  polite  in  Eating  than  the  French, 


30 


Elizabeth 


devouring  less  Bread,  but  more  Meat, 
which  they  roast  in  Perfection ;  they 
put  a  great  deal  of  Sugar  in  their 
Drink ;  their  Beds  are  covered  with 
Tapestry,  even  those  of  Farmers ;  they 
are  often  molested  with  the  Scurvy, 
said  to  have  first  crept  into  England 
with  the  Norman  Conquest;  their 
Houses  are  commonly  of  two  Stories, 
except  in  London,  where  they  are  of 
three  and  four,  though  but  seldom  of 
four ;  they  are  built  of  Wood,  those  of 
the  richer  sort  with  Bricks,  their  Roofs 
are  low,  and  where  the  Owner  has 
Money,  covered  with  Lead. 

They  are  powerful  in  the  Field,  suc- 
cessful against  their  enemies,  impatient 
of  anything  like  Slavery ;  vastly  fond 
of  great  Noises  that  fill  the  Ear,  such 
as  the  firing  of  Cannon,  Drums,  and 
the  ringing  of  Bells,  so  that  it  is  com- 
mon for  a  number  of  them,  that  have 
got  a  Glass  in  their  Heads,  to  go  up 
into  some  Belfry,  and  ring  the  Bells 
for  Hours  together,  for  the  sake  of  Ex- 
ercise. 

If  they  see  a  Foreigner,  very  well 
made  or  particularly  handsome,  they 
will  say,  //  is  a  pity  he  is  not  an  Eng- 
lishman. 


4.  Extract  from  Goodman,  Court  of 
King  James  I.    (Vol.  I.  p.  17.)     1699. 

.  .  .  Duke  Prussiano,  a  very  courte- 
ous and  brave  nobleman,  did  resolve 
to  come  over  to  see  England,  and  to 
come  in  a  private  way.  Our  ambassa- 
dor in  France,  hearing  thereof,  gave 
notice  to  our  secretary,  who  acquaint- 
ing her  majesty  therewith,  order  was 
taken  that  one  should  come  in  his  com- 
pany, to  be  a  spy  upon  him,  to  know 
his  lodging  and  to  discover  his  person. 
The  duke  (as  the  fashion  was)  came 
to  the  court  upon  a  Sunday,  to  see  the 
Queen  go  to  the  chapel.  The  Queen 
having  notice  of  this,  and  knowing 
him  by  one  that  stood  next  to  him,  as 


she  came  by  took  some  occasion  to  call 
the  lord  chamberlain,  as  I  take  it,  to 
tie  her  shoe-strings,  or  to  do  some  such 
like  office ;  and  there  making  a  stay, 
she  took  the  duke  by  the  hand,  who 
followed  her  into  the  privy  chamber. 
She  did  then  graciously  use  him,  and 
after  feasted  him,  and  gave  him  great 
entertainment,  which  was  very  well 
taken  by  the  French  king  and  queen  : 
and  then  did  the  Queen  dance  a  gal- 
liard  very  comely,  and  like  herself,  to 
show  the  vigour  of  her  old  age.  He 
that  would  relate  those  private  danc- 
ings should  not  have  forgotten  this,  so 
famous  and  so  well-known  ;  for  even 
the  Italians  did  then  say  that  it  was  a 
wonder  to  see  an  old  woman,  the  head 
of  the  church,  being  seventy  years  of 
age,  to  dance  in  that  manner  and  to 
perform  her  part  so  well.   .    .   . 


5.   Extracts  from  State  Papers,  1601, 
concerning  the  conspiracy  of  Essex. 

1 .  Speech  of  Cecil  in  the  Star 
Chamber. 
As  the  declining  of  the  sun  brings 
general  darkness,  so  her  Majesty's  hurt 
is  our  continual  night,  and  although 
the  one  by  course  of  nature  may  be  re- 
newed, yet  the  other  will  hardly  be 
matched  in  any  future  age  ;  how  odious 
then  ought  they  to  be  in  the  eye  of  all 
good  subjects,  that  have  sought  the 
utter  ruin  of  so  blessed  a  sovereign  ! 
The  principal  author  thereof,  that  trait- 
orous Earl  of  Essex,  more  like  a 
monster  than  a  man,  has  most  ungrate- 
fully requited  his  most  gracious  Prin- 
cess. Being  but  a  boy  in  years  and  a 
child  in  experience,  he  has  been  graced 
with  more  than  common  dignities. 
Her  Highness  first  made  him  master 
of  the  horse,  then  master  of  her  ord- 
nance, and  first  a  member  and  then 
president  of  her  Privy  Council.  After- 
wards, besides  many  other  private  gifts. 


Elizabeth 


3i 


of  value,  amounting  to  not  less  than 
30o,oooJE,  she  advanced  him  to  the 
dignity  of  Earl  Marshal  and  confirmed 
him  Lord  General  of  her  forces  in 
Ireland ;  where  how  traitorously  he 
behaved  himself,  I  would  his  own  soul 
might  be  judge. 

In  all  this  flourishing  time  of  these 
ill-deserved  preferments,  his  head  was 
hatching  confusion  to  her  person,  and 
the  whole  state  of  his  country.  .  .  . 
Though  he  has  as  in  a  false  glass  pre- 
sented his  discontents  to  the  view  of 
the  world,  yet  we  know  that  these  seven 
years  he  has  intended  treason,  strength- 
ening himself,  with  vulgar  opinions, 
and  the  hearts  of  such  subjects  as,  by 
affability  and  promises  of  gifts  he  was 
able  to  maintain.  .  .  .  He  came  over 
from  Ireland  so  unexpectedly  to  remove 
such  from  the  Queen  as  he  misliked, 
and  could  not  bend  to  his  traitorous 
faction ;  then  Tyrone  and  he  were  to 
join  their  forces,  and  by  destroying  her 
Majesty,  Essex  to  be  made  sole  King 
of  England. 

2.   Directions  for  Preachers. 

Amongst  all  the  treasons  that  have 
happened  in  this  kingdom  none  can  be 
found  more  detestable  than  this  wicked 
purpose  of  the  Earl  of  Essex,  now  in 
the  Tower,  to  set  the  crown  of  Eng- 
land upon  his  own  head.  .  .  .  All  this 
time  he  has  carried  himself  after  a  very 
insolent  and  ambitious  sort,  especially 
for  six  or  seven  years  past.   .   .   . 

If  he  had  not  been  prevented,  there 
had  never  been  a  rebellion  in  England 
since  Richard  II.  more  desperate  or 
dangerous.  The  rebellion  in  the  North 
was  far  off,  and  thereby  not  so  peril- 
ous. The  great  Armada  of  Spain  was 
but  a  thunderclap,  the  noise  being 
greater  than  the  danger,  and  her 
Majesty's  subjects  faithfully  united  to 
encounter  it.  .  .  .  The  Earl  of  Essex 
had  so  possessed  this  villain's  (Thomas 


Lea's)  heart  that,  last  Thursday  night, 
between  9  and  10  p.  M.  he  pressed  to 
the  privy  chamber  door  and  remained 
there  almost  an  hour,  with  the  reso- 
lution that  when  her  Highness  came 
forth  to  supper  in  the  privy  chamber, 
he  would  seize  upon  her  person,  until 
she  had  signed  a  warrant  for  the  Earl's 
deliverance. 

3.    John  Chamberlain  to  Dudley 
Car  let  on. 

.  .  .  Tom  Lea  traitorously  attempted 
to  possess  himself  of  the  privy  cham- 
ber ;  he  told  his  enterprise  to  Sir  Henry 
Neville  .  .  .  and  to  Sir  Robert  Crosse, 
who  both  revealed  it.  .  .  .  When  ar- 
raigned and  confronted  by  Sir  Robt. 
Crosse  and  the  rest,  he  said  he  only 
meant  to  vex  her  for  half  an  hour,  that 
she  might  live  the  merrier  all  her  life 
after;  and  in  this  tune  he  died  very 
resolutely  on  the  17th  at  Tyburn.   .   .   . 

4.    Confession  of  Essex. 

.  .  .  The  late  Earl  .  .  .  acknowl- 
edged with  thankfulness  that  he  was 
thus  justly  spewed  out  of  the  realm. 
He  publicly  in  his  prayer  and  protes- 
tation, as  also  privately  aggravated  the 
detestation  of  his  sin,  and  especially  in 
the  hearing  of  them  that  were  present 
at  the  execution,  desiring  God  to  for- 
give him  his  great,  bloody,  crying  and 
infectious  sin,  which  word  infectious 
he  had  privately  explained  to  us  was  a 
leprosy    which    had    infected    far   and 


6.  The  Death  of  Elizabeth.  (From 
Camden,) 

1603. 

The  Queen,  who  had  hitherto  enjoyed 
a  good  stock  of  health,  through  her 
exact  temperance  both  as  to  wine  and 
diet  (which  she  used  to  say  was  the 
noblest  part  of  physick)  being  in  her 
climacterical  year,  viz.,  the  70th  year 
of  her  age,  began  to  perceive  in  herself 


32 


Elizabeth 


some  weakness  and  decay  of  health  and 
spirits,  and  the  ill  weather  increased  her 
indisposition  ;  till  on  the  last  of  January, 
which  prov'd  a  very  stormy  day,  she 
removed  from  Westminster  to  Rich- 
mond, to  enjoy  there  the  remains  of  life 
with  more  freedom,  and  better  oppor- 
tunities for  the  service  of  God.  .  .  . 
The  Courtiers  made  it  their  observation 
that  the  Queen  was  never  more  constant 
to  the  service  of  the  chappel  than  at 
present.  They  likewise  report  that  she 
then  commanded  the  ring  in  which  she 
had  been  espoused  in  form  to  her  king- 
dom at  her  coronation,  and  had  never 
been  took  off  before,  to  be  filed  from  her 
finger,  because  it  was  so  grown  into  the 
flesh  that  it  could  not  be  got  off  any 
other  way.  And  this  was  looked  upon 
as  a  very  melancholy  omen  and  portend- 
ing no  less  than  a  dissolution  of  her 
marriage  with  the  state,  which  by  that 
emblem  she  had  contracted.  In  the  be- 
ginning of  her  sickness  the  almonds  of 
her  throat  swelled,  but  soon  came  down 
again.  After  that  her  appetite  went  off 
by  degrees  and  she  gave  herself  to  a 
melancholy.  .  .  .  The  Queen  looked 
upon  herself  as  an  helpless  and  aban- 
doned person,  and  would,  in  an  excess 
of  passion,  drop  now  and  then  an 
expression  to  this  purpose:  "They 
have  now  got  me  in  a  yoak  ;  I  have 
nobody  left  that  I  can  trust :  and  my 
condition  is  the  very  reverse  of  what  it 
was."  And  to  imbitter  her  sorrows  yet 
more,  they  persuaded  her  that  she  had 
lost  much  of  her  interest  in  the  hearts  of 
her  people.  .  .  .  As  soon  as  the  rumour 
was  confirmed  that  the  Queen's  illness 
increased  upon  her,  and  that  she  was 
now  greatly  averse  to  physick,  as  indeed 
she  had  ever  appeared  in  her  younger 
days,  'tis  hardly  credible  with  how  for- 
ward a  zeal,  all  ranks  and  conditions  of 
men,  puritans,  papists  and  others  .  .  . 
hasted  away  .   .   .  into  Scotland,  to  pay 


their  adorations  to  the  rising  sun,  the 
young  king :  whose  pretensions  the 
Queen  always  favoured  at  the  bottom. 
...  In  the  beginning  of  March  she 
was  seized  with  a  kind  of  stupour  or 
heaviness,  joined  with  a  pettishness 
common  enough  to  antient  persons. 
.  .  .  On  the  24th  of  March  (1603), 
being  the  eve  of  the  annunciation,  she 
enjoyed  a  blessed  remove  from  this 
world  to  a  better  .  .  .  after  a  glorious 
reign  of  44  years  and  4  months  and  in 
the  70th  year  of  her  age  ;  a  period  never 
yet  attained  by  any  of  the  kings  of 
England. 


7.  Letter  of  John  Chamberlain,  Esq., 
to  Dudley  Carleton,  Esq.  (In  Court 
and  Times  of  James  I.      Lond.  1848.) 

March  30th,  1603. 
...  I  make  no  question  but  you 
have  heard  of  our  great  loss  before  this 
comes  to  you.  ...  I  had  good  means 
to  understand  how  the  world  went,  and 
find  her  disease  to  be  nothing  but  a 
settled  and  unremoveable  melancholy. 
...  It  can  not  be  said  of  her,  as  it  was 
of  the  Emperor  Hadrian,  that  turba 
medicorum  occidit  regent ;  for  they  say 
she  died  only  for  lack  of  physic.  There 
was  some  whispering  that  her  brain 
was  somewhat  distempered,  but  there 
was  no  such  matter ;  only  she  held  an 
obstinate  silence  for  the  most  part,  and 
because  she  had  a  persuasion  that  if  she 
once  laid  down  she  should  never  rise, 
could  not  be  gotten  to  bed  in  a  whole 
week  till  three  days  before  her  death. 
So  that,  after  three  weeks'  languishing, 
she  departed  the  24th  of  this  present, 
being  our  Lady's  Eve,  between  two  and 
three  in  the  morning.  .  .  .  She  made 
no  will,  nor  gave  anything  away,  so 
that  they  which  come  after  shall  find  a 
well-furnished  house,  a  rich  wardrobe 
of  more  than  two  thousand  gowns,  with 
all  things  else  answerable. 


KING  JAMES,    qUEEN    ANNE,    PRINCE    CHARLES,    PRINCE    HENRI 
(Engraved  early  in  this  century  from  an  original  of  Crispin  de  Passe.) 


James  I, 


33 


GROUP  V. 

CHARACTERISTIC    TRAITS    OF  JAMES    I. 


I.  Extracts  from  Sully's  Memoirs 
(Bohn  Edition,  1856.    Vol.  II.  p.  364). 

The  King  of  England,  who  had  be- 
fore acquainted  me  that  he  would  grant 
me  an  audience  on  the*  22nd  [June, 
1603],  which  was  Sunday,  sent  a  gen- 
tleman to  confirm  it  to  me,  to  desire  I 
would  not  think  the  time  tedious,  and 
to  be  informed  how  I  was  lodged,  and 
whether  I  wanted  anything.  To  this 
favor  was  also  added  a  present  of  half 
a  buck,  which,  as  this  prince  informed 
me  by  the  bearer,  he  had  killed  that 
day,  and  was  the  first  he  had  ever  taken 
in  his  life,  though  he  was  a  great  lover 
of  the  chase ;  the  reason  was,  there 
being  very  few  in  Scotland,  and  this 
the  first  he  had  hunted  in  England. 
From  hence  he  took  occasion  to  make 
Henry  [IV.]  a  compliment,  by  saying 
that  he  attributed  his  good  fortune  to 
the  arrival  of  a  man,  who  came  from 
a  prince  that  was  looked  upon  to  be 
the  king  of  hunters.  I  replied  .  .  . 
that  when  the  king  my  master  made 
a  party  for  the  chase,  he  was  so  far 
from  thinking,  like  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, that  my  presence  would  con- 
tribute to  its  success,  that  he  generally 
sent  me  to  pursue  other  affairs  in  the 
cabinet,  where,  he  said,  I  was  more 
happy.  Though  there  was  nothing 
serious  in  all  this,  I  was  nevertheless 
glad  of  the  opportunity  that  was  af- 
forded me  to  insinuate  myself  into  his 
Britannic  majesty's  favour,  and  with 
this  view  I  turned  my  compliment  in 
such  a  manner  as  might  please  the  self- 
complacency  of  James,  who,  I  very 
well  knew,  was  extremely  flattered  by 
any  comparison  with  the  King  of 
France.   .   .   . 

One  part  of  the  orders  I  had  given 
with    regard   to   the    ceremony   of    my 


audience,  was,  that  all  my  retinue 
should  appear  in  mourning,  to  execute 
with  propriety  the  first  part  of  my 
commission,  which  consisted  in  com- 
plimenting the  new  king  on  the  death 
of  Elizabeth,  though  I  had  been  in- 
formed at  Calais  that  no  one,  whether 
ambassador,  foreigner,  or  English,  was 
admitted  into  the  presence  of  the  new 
king  in  black  ;  and  Beaumont  had  since 
represented  to  me,  that  what  I  in- 
tended would  most  certainly  be  highly 
disagreeable  to  the  court,  where  so 
strong  an  affectation  prevailed  to  oblit- 
erate the  memory  of  that  great  princess 
that  she  was  never  spoken  of,  and  even 
the  mention  of  her  name  industriously 
avoided. 

I  should  have  been  very  glad  not  to 
have  been  sensible  of  the  necessity  I 
was  laid  under  of  appearing  in  a  garb 
which  would  seem  to  cast  a  reproach 
on  the  king  and  all  England  ;  but  my 
orders  hereupon  were  positive,  not  to 
mention  that  they  were  almost  laudable  : 
and  this  was  the  reason  I  paid  no  regard 
to  Beaumont's  repi-esentations,  who  en- 
treated me  to  defer  putting  myself  to 
this  trouble  and  expense  till  he  had 
written  about  it  to  Erskine  and  some 
others,  who  were  best  acquainted  with 
the  court  ceremonials.  He  wrote  ac- 
cordingly, but  received  no  answer  on 
Thursday,  Friday,  nor  even  on  Satur- 
day ;  and  I  still  persisted  in  my  resolu- 
tion notwithstanding  the  reasons  which 
he  continually  gave  me  to  the  contrary. 
On  Saturday  night,  which  was  the  even- 
ing of  the  day  preceding  my  audience, 
and  so  late  that  I  was  in  bed,  Beaumont 
came  to  tell  me  that  Erskine  had  sent  to 
acquaint  him  that  the  whole  court  con- 
sidered my  intention  as  a  premeditated 
affront,  and  that  I  had  so  offended  the 


34 


James  I. 


king  by  it,  that  nothing  would  more 
effectually  prevent  the  success  of  my 
negotiation,  from  its  very  commence- 
ment. This  information  agreeing  with 
that  of  Lord  Sydney,  the  Viscount  de 
Saraot,  La  Fontaine  and  the  States' 
deputies,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to 
be  in  doubt  about  it ;  and,  through  fear 
lest  a  greater  evil  should  ensue,  I  caused 
all  my  retinue  to  change  their  apparel, 
and  provide  themselves  others  as  well 
as  they  could.  Lewkenor  coming  the 
next  morning  to  inform  me  that  I  should 
be  presented  to  the  king  at  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  I  pei-ceived,  from  the 
satisfaction  which  he  expressed  at  the 
new  orders  I  had  given,  that  it  was 
indispensably  necessary  to  vanquish 
my  repugnance  ;  nevertheless  it  publicly 
gained  me  almost  as  much  honour  as  if 
I  had  persisted  in  my  intention,  because 
none  were  ignorant  that  I  had  complied 
only  through  absolute  necessity;  ... 
What  was  most  remarkable  in  my 
reception  on  Sunday,  the  29th  of  June, 
was,  that  all  the  gentlemen  of  my 
retinue  had  the  honour  of  being  treated 
with  a  dinner  by  his  majesty,  and  I 
had  that  of  being  admitted  to  his  own 
table.  In  pursuance  of  His  Majesty's 
directions,  I  arrived  at  Greenwich  about 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  was 
present  with  him  at  divine  service,  in 
which  there  was  a  sermon.  He  said 
nothing  particular  to  me  from  the  time 
of  my  arrival  till  our  sitting  down  to 
table ;  the  conversation  turned  almost 
entirely  upon  the  chase  and  the  weather  ; 
the  heat  was  excessive,  and  much  more 
violent  than  was  usual  at  London  in 
this  month.  Only  Beaumont  and  my- 
self sat  with  James  at  table,  where  I 
was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  that  he 
was  always  served  on  the  knee ;  a  sur- 
tout  in  form  of  a  pyramid  was  placed 
in  the  middle  of  the  table,  which  con- 
tained most  costly  vessels,  and  was  even 
enriched  with  diamonds. 


The  conversation  continued  the  same 
as  before,  during  great  part  of  the  en- 
tertainment ;  but  an  opportunity  offer- 
ing for  the  king  to  speak  of  the  late 
Queen  of  England,  he  did  it,  and  to 
my  great  regret,  with  some  sort  of  con- 
tempt ;  he  even  boasted  of  the  dexterity 
which  he  had  employed  to  manage  her 
by  means  of  her  own  councillors,  all  of 
whom,  he  said,  he  had  gained  over  dur- 
ing her  life,  so  that  they  did  nothing 
but  what  was  agreeable  to  him  ;  that  it 
was,  therefore,  not  at  this  time  only  he 
governed  England,  but  several  years  be- 
fore the  death  of  the  late  Queen,  whose 
memory  did  not  seem  agreeable  to  him. 
He  then  called  for  some  wine,  his  cus- 
tom being  never  to  mix  water  with  it, 
and  holding  the  glass  in  his  hand  toward 
Beaumont  and  myself,  he  drank  to  the 
health  of  the  King,  the  Queen  and  the 
royal  family  of  France.  I  returned  him 
his  health,  and  that  too  without  for- 
getting his  children.  He  inclined  him- 
self to  my  ear  when  he  heard  me  name 
them,  and  told  me  softly,  that  the  next 
health  he  would  drink  should  be  to  the 
double  union  which  he  meditated  be- 
tween the  royal  houses.  He  had  never 
till  now  said  a  single  word  to  me  about 
this ;  and  I  thought  the  opportunity 
which  he  had  thus  taken  for  it  was  not 
extremely  well  chosen.  I  failed  not, 
however,  to  receive  the  proposal  with 
all  possible  marks  of  joy,  and  replied 
softly  that  I  was  certain  Henry  would 
not  hesitate  in  his  choice  between  his 
good  brother  and  ally,  and  the  King  of 
Spain,  who  had  before  applied  to  him 
upon  the  same  subject.  James,  sur- 
prised at  what  I  told  him,  informed 
me  in  his  turn,  that  Spain  had  made 
him  the  same  offers  of  the  Infanta  for 
his  son,  as  she  had  to  France  for  the 
Dauphin.  At  last  he  quitted  the  com- 
pany to  go  to  bed,  where  he  usually 
passed  part  of  the  afternoon,  and  some- 
times even  the  whole  of  it. 


James  I 


35 


2.  Sir  Anthony  Weldon's  Character 
of  King  James  I.  First  published  in 
1650.  (In  Smeeton's  Historical  and 
Biographical  Tracts,  Vol.  I.  London, 
1820.) 

This  King's  Character  is  much  easier 
to  take  than  his  Picture,  for  he  could 
never  be  brought  to  sit  for  the  taking 
of  that,  which  is  the  reason  of  so  few 
good  pieces  of  him  ;  but  his  Character 
was  obvious  to  every  eye. 

He  was  of  middle  stature,  more  cor- 
pulent through  his  cloathes  then  in  his 
body,  yet  fat  enough,  his  cloathes  ever 
being  made  large  and  easie,  the  doublets 
quilted  for  steletto  proof,  his  Bi*eeches 
in  plates,  and  full  stuffed.  He  was 
naturally  of  a  timorous  disposition, 
which  was  the  reason  of  his  quilted 
doublets,  his  eye  large  ever  rowling 
after  any  stranger  came  in  his  presence, 
in  so  much,  who  that  for  shame  have 
left  the  room,  as  being  out  of  counte- 
nance ;  his  beard  was  very  thin ;  his 
tongue  too  large  for  his  mouth,  which 
ever  made  him  drink  very  uncomely, 
as  if  eating  his  drink,  which  came  out 
into  the  cup  of  each  side  his  mouth  ; 
his  skin  was  as  soft  as  Taffeta  Sarsnet, 
which  felt  so,  because  he  never  washt 
his  hands,  only  rub' d  his  fingers'  ends 
slightly,  with  the  wet-end  of  a  Napkin  ; 
his  legs  were  very  weak,  having  as  was 
thought  some  foul  play  in  his  youth,  or 
rather  before  he  was  born,  that  he  was 
not  able  to  stand  at  seven  years  of  age, 
that  weakness  made  him  ever  leaning 
on  other  men's  shoulders;  his  walk 
was  ever  circular  ...  ;  he  was  very 
intemperate  in  his  drinking ;  however 
in  his  old  age,  and  Buckingham'' s  jovial 
Suppers,  when  he  had  any  turn  to  do 
with  him,  made  him  sometimes  over- 
taken, which  he  would  the  very  next 
day  remember,  and  repent  with  tears. 
It  is  true  that  he  drank  very  often,  which 
was  rather  out  of  a  custom  than  any 
delight,  and    his   drinks   were  of   that 


kind  of  strength  as  Frontiniack,  Canary, 
High  Canary  wine,  Tent  wine  and 
Scottish  Ale,  that  had  he  not  had  a 
very  strong  brain,  might  have  daily 
been  overtaken,  although  he  seldom 
drank  at  any  one  time  above  four  spoon- 
fuls, many  times  not  above  one  or  two  ; 
he  was  very  constant  in  all  things,  his 
Favorites  excepted,  in  which  he  loved 
change,  yet  he  never  cast  down  any  one 
he  once  raised  from  the  height  of  great- 
ness, though  from  their  wanted  near- 
ness and  privacy ;  unless  by  their  own 
default,  by  opposing  his  change,  as  in 
Somerset's  case:  yet  had  he  not  been 
in  that  foul  poisoning  business,  and  so 
cast  down  himself ;  I  do  verily  believe 
not  him  neither ;  for  all  his  other  Favor- 
ites he  left  great  in  Honor,  great  in 
Fortune  ;  and  did  much  love  Mount- 
gomery,  and  trusted  him  more  at  the 
very  last  gasp,  then  in  the  first  minute 
of  his  Favoriteship :  in  his  Dyet,  Ap- 
parel, and  Journeys,  was  very  constant ; 
in  his  apparel  so  constant,  as  by  his 
good  will  he  would  never  change  his 
cloathes  till  very  ragges  :  his  fashion 
never ;  insomuch  as  a  man  bringing  to 
him  a  Hat  of  a  Spanish  Block,  he  cast 
it  from  him,  swearing  he  neither  loved 
them  nor  their  fashions.  Another  time, 
bringing  him  Roses  on  his  Shoes,  asked 
if  they  would  make  him  a  ruff-footed- 
Dove  ?  one  yard  of  six  penny  Ribbond 
served  that  turn  :  his  Dyet  and  Journeys 
were  so  constant,  that  the  best  observ- 
ing Courtier  of  our  time  was  wont  to 
say,  was  he  asleep  seven  years,  and 
then  awakened,  he  would  tell  where 
the  King  every  day  had  been,  and  every 
dish  he  had  had  at  his  Table. 

He  was  not  very  uxorious,  though  he 
had  a  very  brave  Queen  that  never 
crossed  his  designs,  nor  intermeddled 
with  State  affaires,  but  ever  complyed 
with  him,  against  the  nature  of  any; 
but  of  a  mild  spirit  in  the  change  of 
favorites ;    for  he  was  ever  best  when 


36 


James  I 


furthest  from  the  Queen,  and  that  was 
thought  to  he  the  first  grounds  of  his 
often  removes  which  afterwards  proved 
habitual.  He  was  unfortunate  in  the 
marriage  of  his  Daughter,  and  so  was 
all  Christendom  besides ;  but  sure  the 
Daughter  was  more  unfortunate  in  a 
Father  than  he  in  a  Daughter ;  he 
naturally  loved  not  the  sight  of  a  Soldier, 
nor  of  any  valiant  man.  .  .  .  He  was 
very  witty,  and  had  as  many  witty  jests 
as  any  man  living  at  which  he  would 
not  smile  himself,  but  deliver  them  in 
a  grave  and  serious  manner.  He  was 
very  liberal,  of  what  he  had  not  in  his 
own  gripe,  and  would  rather  part  with 
<£ioo  he  never  had  in  his  keeping,  than 
one  twenty-shilling  piece  within  his 
own  custody  :  He  spent  much,  and  had 
much  use  of  his  subjects'  purses,  which 
bred  some  clashing  with  them  in  Par- 
liament.   .   .    . 

He  would  make  a  great  deal  too  bold 
with  God  in  his  passion,  both  in  curs- 
ing and  swearing,  and  one  strain  higher, 
verging  on  blasphemy  ;  But  would  in 
his  better  temper  say,  he  hoped  God 
would  not  impute  them  as  sins.  .  .  . 
He  was  infinitely  inclined  to  prayer, 
but  more  out  of  fear  then  conscience ; 
and  this  was  the  greatest  blemish  this 
King  had  through  all  his  reign,  other- 
wise he  might  have  been  ranked  with 
the  very  best  of  our  Kings.   .   .   . 

In  a  word,  take  him  altogether  and 
not  in  pieces,  such  a  King  I  wish  this 
Kingdom  have  never  any  worse,  on 
the  condition,  not  any  better;  for  he 
lived  in  peace,  dyed  in  peace,  and  left 
all  his  Kingdoms  in  a  peaceable  con- 
dition, with  his  own  Motto:  Beati 
Pacifica. 

3.  A  Counterblast  to  Tobacco. 
Pamphlet  written  by  James  I.  (In 
Arber  English  Reprints.  London, 
1869.)      Spelling  modernized. 

.  .  .  And  now  good  Countrymen  let 
us  (I  pray  you)   consider,  what  honor 


or  policy  can  move  us  to  imitate  the 
barbarous  and  beastly  manners  of  the 
wild,  godless  and  slavish  Indians,  espe- 
cially in  so  vile  and  stinking  a  custom  ? 
Shall  we  that  disdain  to  imitate  the 
manners  of  our  neighbor  France  (hav- 
ing the  style  of  the  first  Christian  king- 
dom) and  that  cannot  endure  the  spirit 
of  the  Spaniards  (their  King  being 
now  comparable  in  largeness  of  Domin- 
ions to  the  great  Emperor  of  Turkey)  : 
Shall  we,  I  say,  that  have  been  so  long 
civil  and  wealthy  in  peace,  famous  and 
invincible  in  war,  fortunate  in  both, 
we  that  have  been  ever  able  to  aid  any 
of  our  neighbors  (but  never  deafed  any 
of  their  ears  with  any  of  our  supplica- 
tions for  assistance)  shall  we,  I  say, 
without  blushing,  abase  ourselves  so 
far  as  to  imitate  these  beastly  Indians, 
slaves  to  the  Spaniards,  refuse  to  the 
world,  and  as  yet  aliens  from  the  holy 
Covenant  of  God?  Why  do  we  not 
as  well  imitate  them  in  walking  naked 
as  they  do  ?  in  preferring  glasses, 
feathers,  and  such  toys,  to  gold  and 
precious  stones  as  they  do?  yea  why 
do  wre  not  deny  God  and  adore  the 
Devil  as  they  do  ? 

Now  to  the  corrupted  baseness  of  the 
first  use  of  this  tobacco  doth  very  well 
agree  the  foolish  and  groundless  first 
entry  thereof  into  this  Kingdom.  It  is 
not  so  long  since  the  first  entry  of  this 
abuse  amongst  us  here  as  [that]  this 
present  age  cannot  yet  very  well  re- 
member, both  the  first  author  and  the 
form  of  the  first  introduction  of  it 
among  us.  It  was  neither  brought  in 
by  King,  great  Conqueror,  nor  learned 
Doctor  of  Physic. 

With  the  report  of  a  great  discovery 
for  a  Conquest,  some  two  or  three 
savage  men  were  brought  in,  together 
with  this  savage  custom.  But  the  pity 
is,  the  poor  wild  barbarous  men  died, 
but  that  vile  barbarous  custom  is  yet 
alive,  yea  in  fresh  vigor:  so  as  it  seems 


James  I 


37 


a  miracle  to  me,  how  a  custom  spring- 
ing from  so  vile  a  ground,  and  brought 
in  by  a  father  so  generally  hated, 
[Raleigh]  should  be  welcomed  upon 
so  slender  a  warrant  .   .   . 

.  .  .  This  tobacco  is  not  simply  of 
a  dry  and  hot  quality,  but  rather  hath 
a  certain  venomous  faculty  joined  with 
the  heat  thereof,  which  makes  it  have 
an  antipathy  against  nature,  as  by  the 
hateful  smell  thereof  doth  well  appear. 
For  the  nose  being  the  proper  organ 
and  convoy  of  the  sense  of  smelling 
to  the  brains,  which  are  the  only  foun- 
tain of  that  sense,  doth  ever  serve  us 
for  an  infallible  witness  whether  that 
odor  which  we  smell  be  healthful  or 
hurtful  to  the  brain.   .   .    . 

The  second  argument  grounded  on 
a  show  of  reason  is,  that  this  filthy 
smoke,  as  well  through  the  heat  and 
strength  thereof,  as  by  a  natural  force 
and  quality,  is  able  to  purge  both  the 
head  and  stomach  of  rheums  and  dis- 
tillations, as  experience  teacheth,  by 
the  spitting  and  avoiding  phlegm  imme- 
diately after  the  taking  of  it.  But  the 
fallacy  of  this  argument  may  easily  ap- 
pear. .  .  .  This  stinking  smoke  being 
sucked  up  by  the  nose  and  imprisoned 
in  the  cold  and  moist  brains,  is,  by  their 
cold  and  wet  faculty,  turned  and  cast 
forth  again  in  watery  distillations,  and 
so  are  you  made  free  and  purged  of 
nothing  but  that  wherewith  you  wil- 
fully burdened  yourselves.   .   .   . 

As  for  the  other  two  reasons  founded 
upon  experience,  the  first  of  which  is, 
that  the  whole  people  would  not  have 
taken  so  general  a  good  liking  thereof 
if  they  had  not  by  experience  found  it 
very  sovereign  and  good  for  them  :  for 
answer  thereunto  how  easily  the  minds 
of  any  people,  wherewith  God  had 
replenished  this  world,  may  be  drawn 
to  the  foolish  affectation  of  any  novelty, 
I  leave  it  to  the  discreet  judgment  of 
any  man    that    is   reasonable.      Do  we 


not  daily  see  that  a  man  can  no  sooner 
bring  over  from  beyond  the  seas  any 
new  form  of  apparel  but  that  he  cannot 
be  thought  a  man  of  spirit  that  would 
not  presently  imitate  the  same?  And 
so  from  hand  to  hand  it  spreads,  till  it 
be  practised  by  all,  not  for  any  com- 
modity there  is  in  it  but  only  because 
it  is  come  to  be  the  fashion.  .  .  . 
Many  in  this  Kingdom  have  had  such 
a  continual  use  of  taking  this  unsavory 
smoke,  as  now  they  are  not  able  to 
forbear  the  same,  no  more  than  an  old 
drunkard  can  abide  to  be  long  sober, 
without  falling  into  an  uncurable  weak- 
ness. ...  It  is,  as  you  use  or  rather 
abuse  it,  a  branch  of  the  sin  of  drunk- 
eness,  which  is  the  loot  of  all  sins  :  for 
as  the  only  delight  that  drunkards  take 
in  wine  is  in  the  strength  of  the  taste, 
and  the  force  of  the  fume  thereof  that 
mounts  up  to  the  brain :  for  no  drunk- 
ards love  any  weak  or  sweet  drink  :  so 
are  not  those  (I  mean  the  strong  heat 
and  the  fume)  the  only  qualities  that 
make  tobacco  so  delectable  to  all  the 
lovers  of  it?  .   .   . 

And  for  the  vanities  committed  in 
this  filthy  custom,  is  it  not  both  great 
vanity  and  uncleanness,  that  at  the  table, 
a  place  of  respect,  of  cleanliness,  of 
modesty,  men  should  not  be  ashamed 
to  sit  tossing  of  tobacco  pipes,  and 
puffing  of  the  smoke  of  tobacco  one  to 
another,  making  the  filthy  smoke  and 
stink  thereof  to  exhale  athwart  the 
dishes  and  infect  the  air,  when  very 
often  men  that  abhor  it  are  at  their  re- 
past? Surely  smoke  becomes  a  kitchen 
far  better  than  a  dining  chamber,  and 
yet  it  makes  a  kitchen  also  oftentimes 
in  the  inward  parts  of  men,  soiling 
and  infecting  them  with  an  unctuous 
and  oily  kind  of  soot,  as  hath  been 
found  in  some  great  tobacco  takers 
that  after  their  death  were  opened.  .  .  . 
The  public  use  whereof  at  all  times 
and  in  all  places,  hath  now  so  far  pre- 


38 


James  I. 


vailed,  as  [that]  divers  men,  very  sound 
both  in  judgment  and  complexion,  have 
been  at  last  forced  to  take  it  also  with- 
out desire,  partly  because  they  were 
ashamed  to  seem  singular  .  .  .  and 
partly  to  be  as  one  that  was  content  to 
eat  garlic  (which  he  did  not  love)  that 
he  might  not  be  troubled  with  the 
smell  of  it  in  the  breath  of  his  fellows. 
And  is  it  not  a  great  vanity  that  a  man 
cannot  heartily  welcome  his  friend  now, 
but  straight  they  must  be  in  hand  with 
tobacco  ?  No  it  is  become  in  place  of 
a  cure,  a  point  of  good  fellowship,  and 
he  that  will  refuse  to  take  a  pipe  of 
tobacco  among  his  fellows  (though  for 
his  own  election  he  would  rather  feel 
the  savor  of  a  sink)  is  accounted 
peevish  and  no  good  company,  even 
as  they  do  with  tippling  in  the  cold 
Eastern  countries.  Yea  the  mistress 
cannot  in  a  more  mannerly  kind  enter- 
tain her  servant  than  by  giving  him  out 
of  her  fair  hand  a  pipe  of  tobacco. 
...  A  custom  loathsome  to  the  eye, 
hateful  to  the  nose,  harmful  to  the 
brain,  dangerous  to  the  lungs,  and  in 
the  black,  stinking  fume  thereof,  near- 
est resembling  the  horrible  Stygian 
smoke  of  the  pit  that  is  bottomless. 

Law  of  King  James  to  restrict  the  Use 
of  Tobacco.     (In  Arber.) 

Oct.  17,  1604. 
.  .  .  Whereas  Tobacco  ...  is  now 
at  this  day,  through  evil  custom  and  the 
toleration  thereof,  excessively  taken  by 
a  number  of  riotous  and  disordered 
persons  of  mean  and  base  condition 
who  ...  do  spend  most  of  their  time 
in  that  idle  vanity,  to  the  evil  example 
and  corrupting  of  others,  and  also  do 
consume  that  wages  which  many  of 
them  get  by  their  labor,  and  wherewith 
their  families  should  be  relieved,  not 
caring  at  what  price  they  buy  that  drug, 
but  rather  devising  how  to  add  to  it 
other  mixture,  thereby  to  make  it  the 


more  delightful  to  their  taste,  though  so 
much  the  more  costly  to  their  purse  :  by 
which  great  and  immoderate  taking  of 
tobacco  the  health  of  a  great  number  of 
our  people  is  impaired,  and  their  bodies 
weakened  and  made  unfit  for  labor,  the 
estates  of  many  mean  persons  so  decayed 
and  consumed  as  [that]  they  are  there- 
by driven  to  unthrifty  shifts  only  to 
maintain  their  gluttonous  exercise  there- 
of, besides  that  also  a  great  part  of  the 
treasure  of  our  land  is  spent  and 
exhausted  by  this  only  drug  : — we  do 
therefore  will  and  command  you  our 
Treasurer  of  England  ...  to  give  order 
to  all  Customers,  Controllers,  Searchers, 
Surveyors  and  other  officers  of  our  ports 
that  .  .  .  they  shall  demand  .  .  .  the 
sum  of  six  shillings  and  eight  pence  up- 
on every  pound  weight  thereof,  over 
and  above  the  Custom  of  two  pence 
upon  the  pound  weight  usually  paid 
heretofore.   .    .   . 

Extract  from  a  Letter  of  Rev.  Thomas 
Lor  kin  to  Sir  Thomas  Pucker- 
ing,  Bart. 

(In  Court  and  Times  of  James  I.     Vol. 
II.  p.  137.) 

.  .  .  His  majesty  hath  newly  pub- 
lished a  book,  being  certain  meditations 
on  the  Lord's  prayer,  which  he  hath 
dedicated  to  the  Marquis  of  Bucking- 
ham, as  the  preface  can  inform  you. 
You  shall    receive    it    herein    likewise. 


4.  Extract  from  the  "Daemonologie" 
of  James  I.  (In  Harris,  Life  of  James 
I.     Lond.  1814,  p.  45.) 

The  fearful  abounding  at  this  time 
[1597],  in  this  country  [Scotland],  of 
these  detestable  slaves  of  the  devil,  the 
witches  or  enchanters,  hath  moved  me, 
beloved  reader,  to  dispatch  in  post  this 
following  treatise  of  mine,  not  in  any 
wise  (as  I  protest)  to  serve  for  a  shew 
of  my  learning  and  ingene,  but  only 
(moved  of  conscience)  to  press  thereby 


James  I. 


39 


so  far  as  I  can,  to  resolve  the  doubting 
hearts  of  many  ;  both  that  such  assaults 
of  Satan  are  most  certainly  practised, 
and  that  the  instrument  thereof  merits 
most  severely  to  be  punished,  against 
the  damnable  opinions  of  two  principally 
in  our  age,  whereof  the  one  called  Scot, 
an  Englishman,  is  not  ashamed  in  public 
print  to  deny  that  there  can  be  such  a 
thing  as  witchcraft ;  and  so  maintains 
the  old  errors  of  the  Sadducees  in  deny- 
ing of  spirits  ;  the  other  called  Wierus, 
a  German  physician,  sets  out  a  public 
apology  for  all  these  crafts-folks,  where- 
by, procuring  for  their  impunity,  he 
plainly  bewrays  himself  to  have  been 
one  of  that  profession.  And  for  to 
make  this  treatise  the  more  pleasant 
and  facile,  I  have  put  it  in  form  of  a 
dialogue,  which  I  have  divided  into 
three  books  ;  the  first  speaking  of  magic 
in  general,  and  necromancie  in  special : 
the  second  of  sorcerie  and  witchcraft : 
and  the  third  contains  a  discourse  of  all 
these  kinds  of  spirits,  and  spectres  that 
appear  and  trouble  persons :  together 
with  a  conclusion  of  the  whole  work. 
.  .  .  Witches  ought  to  be  put  to  death 
according  to  the  law  of  God,  the  civil 
and  imperial  law,  and  the  municipal  law 
of  all  Christian  nations.  Yea  to  spare 
the  life,  and  not  to  strike  when  God 
bids  strike,  and  so  severely  punish  in  so 
odious  a  fault  and  treason  against  God, 
it  is  not  only  unlawful,  but  doubtless  no 
less  sin  in  the  Magistrate  nor  it  was 
in  Saul's  sparing  Agag.  .  .  .  Barnes 
[bairns]  or  wives,  or  never  so  defamed 
persons,  may  serve  for  sufficient  wit- 
nesses against  them.  .  .  .  There  are 
two  good  helps  that  may  be  used  for 
their  trial :  the  one  is  the  finding  of  their 
mark,  and  the  trying  the  insensibleness 
thereof  :  the  other  is  their  fleeting  on 
the  water :  for,  as  in  a  secret  murther, 
if  the  dead  carkas  be  at  any  time  there- 
after handled  by  the  murtherer,  it  will 
gush  out  of  blood,  as  if  the  blood  were 


crying  to  the  heaven  for  revenge  of  the 
murtherer  :  God  having  appointed  that 
secret  supernatural  sign,  for  trial  of  that 
secret  unnatural  crime  :  so  that  it  appears 
that  God  hath  appointed  (for  a  super- 
natural sign  of  the  monstrous  impiety  of 
witches)  that  the  water  shall  refuse  to 
receive  them  in  her  bosom,  that  have 
shaken  off  them  the  sacred  water  of 
baptism,  and  wilfully  refused  the  benefit 
thereof  :  no,  not  so  much  as  their  eyes 
are  able  to  shed  tears  (threaten  and 
torture  them  as  you  please)  while  first 
they  repent  (God  not  permitting  them 
to  dissemble  their  obstinacie  in  so  hor- 
rible a  crime) .  Albeit  the  women-kind 
especially,  be  able  otherwise  to  shed 
tears  at  every  light  occasion  when  they 
will,  yea,  although  it  were  dissembling 
like  the  crocodiles. 

Statute  of  First  Tear  of  James  I. 
(In  Harris,  p.  zj.8.) 

...  If  any  person  or  persons  shall 
use,  practise,  or  exercise  any  invoca- 
tion, or  conjuration  of  any  evil  and 
wicked  spirit,  or  shall  consult,  coven- 
ant with,  entertain,  employ,  feed  or 
reward  any  evil  and  wicked  spirit,  to 
or  for  any  intent  and  purpose  :  or  take 
up  any  dead  man,  woman,  or  child, 
out  of  his,  her  or  their  grave,  or  any 
other  place  where  the  dead  body  rest- 
eth,  or  the  skin,  bone,  or  any  part  of 
any  dead  person,  to  be  employed  or 
used  in  any  manner  of  witchcraft, 
sorcery,  charm,  or  inchantment;  or 
shall  use,  practise,  or  exercise  any 
witchcraft,  inchantment,  charm  or 
sorcery,  whereby  any  person  shall  be 
killed,  destroyed,  wasted,  consumed, 
pined  or  lamed  in  his  or  her  body,  or 
any  part  thereof ;  that  then  every  such 
offender  or  offenders,  their  aiders, 
abettors,  and  counsellors,  being  of  any 
the  said  offenses  duly  and  lawfully  con- 
victed and  attainted,  shall  suffer  pains 
of  death  as  a  felon  or  felons,  and  shall 


4Q 


James  I. 


lose  the  privilege  and  benefit  of  clergy 
and  sanctuary. 


5.  Letter  of  Sir  John  Harrington  to 
Sir  Amyas  Paulett.  (In  Jesse,  Me- 
moirs of  the  Court  of  England  under 
the  Stuarts.     Vol.  I.  p.  70.) 

January,  1610. 
My  Loving  Cousin  :  It  behoveth  me 
now  to  write  my  journal  respecting  the 
gracious  command  of  my  sovereign 
prince  to  come  to  his  closet ;  which 
matter,  as  you  so  well  and  urgently 
desire  to  hear  of,  I  shall,  as  suiteth  my 
best  ability,  relate  unto  you,  and  is  as 
followeth : — When  I  came  to  the 
presence-chamber  and  had  gotten  good 
place  to  see  the  lordly  attendants  and 
bowed  my  knee  to  the  prince,  I  was 
oi'dered  by  special  messenger,  and  that 
in  secret  sort,  to  wait  awhile  in  an  out- 
ward chamber,  whence,  in  near  an 
hour  waiting,  the  same  knave  led  me 
up  a  passage,  and  so  to  a  small  room 
where  was  good  order  of  paper,  ink 
and  pens,  put  in  a  board  for  the 
prince's  use.  Soon  upon  this  the 
prince  his  highness  did  enter  and  in 
much  good  humor  asked  "if  I  was 
cousin  to  Lord  Harrington  of  Exton?" 
I  humbly  replied  "  His  majesty  did 
some  honor  in  enquiring  my  kin  to  one 
whom  he  had  so  late  honored  and 
made  a  baron,"  and  moreover  did  add, 
"  we  were  both  branches  of  the  same 
tree."  Then  he  discoursed  much  of 
learning,  and  showed  me  his  own  in 
such  sort,  as  made  me  remember  my 
examiner  at  Cambridge.  He  sought 
much  to  know  my  advances  in  philos- 
ophy, and  uttered  profound  sentences 
of  Aristotle  and  such  like  writers, 
which  I  had  never  read  and  which 
some  are  bold  enough  to  say  others  do 
not  understand ;  but  this  I  pass  by. 
The  prince  did  now  press  my  reading 
to  him  part  of  a  canto  of  Ariosto ; 
praised  my   utterance,  and  said  he  had 


been  informed  of  many  as  to  my  learn- 
ing in  the  time  of  the  Queen.  He 
asked  me  what  I  thought  pure  wit  was 
made  of  and  whom  it  did  best  become? 
Whether  a  king  should  not  be  the  best 
clerk  in  his  own  country  ;  and  if  this 
land  did  not  entertain  good  opinion  of 
his  learning  and  good  wisdom?  His 
majesty  did  much  press  for  my  opinion 
touching  the  power  of  Satan  in  matter 
of  witchcraft,  and  asked  me  with  much 
gravity  if  I  did  truly  understand  why 
the  devil  did  work  more  with  antient 
women  than  others?  I  did  not  refrain 
from  a  scurvy  jest,  and  even  said  (not- 
withstanding to  whom  it  was  said)  that 
we  were  taught  hereof  in  Scripture 
where  it  is  told  that  the  devil  walketh 
in  dry  places.  His  majesty,  moreover, 
was  pleased  to  say  much  and  favorably, 
of  my  good  report  for  merit  and  good 
conceit :  to  which  I  did  covertly 
answer,  as  not  willing  a  subject  should 
be  wiser  than  his  prince,  nor  even 
appear  so. 

More  serious  discourse  did  next  en- 
sue, wherein  I  wanted  room  to  con- 
tinue, and  sometimes  some  to  escape  : 
for  the  Queen,  his  mother,  was  not 
forgotten,  nor  Davison  neither.  His 
highness  told  me  her  death  was  visible 
in  Scotland  before  it  did  really  happen, 
being,  as  he  said,  spoken  of  in  secret 
by  those  whose  power  of  sight  pre- 
sented to  them  a  bloody  head  dancing 
in  the  air.  He  then  did  remark  on 
this  gift  (second  sight)  and  said  he 
sought  out  of  certain  books  a  sure  way 
to  attain  knowledge  of  future  chances. 
Hereat  he  named  many  books  which 
I  did  not  know,  nor  by  whom  written  ; 
but  advised  me  not  to  consult  some 
authors  which  would  lead  me  to  evil 
consultations.  I  told  his  majesty  the 
power  of  Satan  had,  I  much  feared, 
damaged  my  bodily  frame,  but  I  had 
not  further  will  to  court  his  friendship 
for    my    soul's    hurt.     We    next    dis- 


James  I. 


4i 


coursed  somewhat  upon  religion,  when 
at  length  he  said:  "Now,  sir,  you 
have  seen  my  wisdom  in  some  sort  and 
I  have  pried  into  yours ;  pray  you  do 
me  justice  in  your  report,  and  in  good 
reason  I  will  not  fail  to  add  to  your 
understanding  in  such  points  as  I  find 
you  lack  amendment."  I  made  cour- 
tesy hereat,  and  withdrew  down  the 
passage  and  out  at  the  gate,  amidst  the 
many  varlets  and  lordly  servants  who 
stood  around.  Thus  you  have  the  his- 
tory of  your  neighbor's  high  chance 
and  entertainment  at  court;  more  of 
which  matter  when  I  come  home  to 
my  dwelling  and  talk  of  these  affairs 
in  a  corner.  I  must  press  to  silence 
hereon,  as  otherwise  all  is  undone.  I 
did  forget  to  tell  that  His  Majesty  much 
asked  concerning  my  opinion  of  the 
new  weed,  tobacco,  and  said  it  would, 
by  its  use,  infuse  ill  qualities  on  the 
brain,  and  that  no  learned  man  ought 
to  taste  it,  and  wished  it  forbidden.  I 
will  now  forbear  further  exercise  of 
your  time,  as  Sir  Robert's  man  waiteth 
for  my  letter  to  bear  to  you,  from  your 
old  neighboi, 

Friend  and  Cousin, 
John  Harrington. 

6.  Letters  of  John  Chamberlain. 
Esq.,  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton.  (In 
Court  and  Times  of  James  I.     Vol.  II. 

P-  "50 

London,  Dec.  20th,  1618. 

The  king  hath  been  to  Theobalds 
ever  since  Wednesday,  and  comes  to 
town  this  day ;  and  unless  his  presence 
bring  us  some  news,  we  are  likely  to 
have  a  dead  and  dull  Christmas.  I  am 
sorry  to  hear  that  he  grows  every  day 
more  froward,  and  with  such  a  kind  of 
morosity,  that  doth  either  argue  a  great 
discontent  in  mind,  or  a  distemper  of 
humours  in  his  body.  Yet  he  is  never 
so.  out  of  tune,  but  the  very  sight  of 
my  Lord  of  Buckingham  doth  settle 
and  quiet  all. 


May  14th,  1619. 

It  were  to  no  purpose  to  make  any 
long  description  of  the  funeral  [of 
Anne  of  Denmark,  James's  Queen], 
which  was  but  a  drawling,  tedious 
sight,  more  remarkable  for  number 
than  for  any  other  singularity,  there 
being  280  poor  women,  besides  an 
army  of  men  fellows,  that  were  serv- 
ants to  the  lords,  and  others  of  the 
train.  And,  though  the  number  of 
lords  and  ladies  was  very  great,  yet 
methought,  altogether,  they  made  but 
a  poor  show;  which,  perhaps,  was, 
because  they  were  apparelled  all  alike, 
or  that  they  came  loggering  all  along, 
even  tired  with  the  length  of  the  way 
and  the  weight  of  their  cloaks,  every 
lady  having  twelve  yards  of  broad 
cloth  about  her,  and  the  countesses 
sixteen.   .   .   . 

June  5th  [three  weeks  after!] 

The  king  came  from  Theobalds,  on 
Tuesday,  to  Whitehall,  all  along  the 
fields.;,  and,  on  the  back  side  of  Gray's 
Intt/v&jjs^rnet  by  a  fair  troop  of  our 
citizens  on:  horseback,  with  their  chains 
of  gold.^op7  pearl,  or  diamonds;  and 
the  aklermen  in  scarlet.  The  recorder 
made  a  short  speech  in  congratulation 
of  his  recovery,  and  excuse  of  the  lord 
mayor's  absence;  whereto  the  King 
gave  no  great  heed,  making  little  show 
of  being  pleased,  as  being  given  to 
understand  that  he  is  more  sullen  than 
sick,  which,  in  very  truth,  is  otherwise, 
for  he  continues  still  in  weak  estate. 
The  King  was  attended  by  the  prince 
[Charles  I.],  and  all  the  nobility,  in 
very  good  equipage ;  himself  very  fresh 
in  a  suit  of  watchet  satin,  laid  with 
silver  lace,  with  a  blue  and  white 
feather;  as  also  his  horse  was  furnished 
with  the  like,  both  before  and  behind. 
Insomuch  that  all  the  company  was 
glad  to  see  him  so  gallant,  and  more 
like  a  wooer  than  a  mourner.  But 
what  decorum  it  will  be  when  ambas- 


42 


ames 


I. 


sadors  come  to  condole  (as  here  is  one 
now  from  the  Duke  of  Lorraine,  with 
three  or  four  and  twenty  followers,  all 
in  black) ,  let  them  consider  whom  it 
more  concerns.   .   .   . 

June  26th. 
.  .  .  The  king  this  next  week,  makes 
a  petty  progress  to  Otelands,  Oking 
and  Windsor.  .  .  .  His  legs  and  feet 
come  pretty  well  to  him,  having  found 
out  a  very  good  expedient  of  late,  to 
bathe  them  in  every  buck  and  stag's 
belly  in  the  place  where  he  kills  them  ; 
which  is  counted  an  excellent  remedy 
to  strengthen  and  restore  the  sinews. 
Au  reste,  he  is  fallen  to  his  old  diet, 
and  will  not  be  persuaded  to  forbear 
fruit,  nor  sweet  wines.  In  the  mean 
time  we  are  driven  to  hardships  for 
money,  and  all  too  little ;  so  that  we 
are  fain  to  make  sale  of  jewels  for 
£20,000,  to  furnish  out  this  progress. 


7.  Letter  of  James  to  a  certain  Blake 
concerning  the  Puritans.  No  date. 
(In  Ellis,  Original  Letters,  3d  Series, 
4th  volume,  p.  161.)  English  mod- 
ernized. 

My  honest  Blake.  .  .  .  The  letter 
talking  of  deambulatory  councils  and 
such  like  satiric  tricks  did  a  little  chafe 
me,  but  ye  may  see  I  answered  accord- 
ing to  the  old  scholar's  rule,  in  quo 
casu  quceris,  in  eode?n  res  pondere 
teneris,  for  I  would  be  sorry  not  to  be 
as  constant  indeed  as  she  was  that 
called  herself  semper  eadem ;  indeed 
ye  may  tell  the  beagle  that  he  hath 
best  cause  to  complain  of  my  being  a 


peripatetic,  for  I  will  oftimes  walk 
so  fast,  round  about  and  above  with 
him,  that  he  will  be  like  to  fall  down 
dead  upon  the  floor.  I  can  give  you 
no  other  thanks  for  your  daily  working 
and  public  railing  upon  me,  save  only 
this,  do  what  ye  can  ye  can  give  me 
no  more  arguments  of  your  faithful 
affection  towards  me,  and  do  what  I 
can  unto  you,  I  can  never  increase  a 
hair  the  devotion  of  your  service  towards 
me. 

We  have  kept  such  a  revel  with  the 
Puritans  here  these  two  days  as  was 
never  heard  the  like,  where  I  have 
peppered  them  as  soundly  as  ye  have 
done  the  Papists  there ;  it  were  no 
reason  that  those  that  will  refuse  the 
airy  sign  of  the  cross  after  baptism 
should  have  their  purses  stuffed  with 
any  more  solid  and  substantial  crosses ; 
they  fled  me  so  from  argument  to  argu- 
ment without  ever  answering  me  di- 
rectly, ut  est  eorum  moris,  that  I  was 
forced  at  last  to  say  unto  them,  that  if 
any  of  them  had  been  in  a  college  dis- 
puting with  their  scholars,  if  any  of 
their  disciples  had  answered  them  in 
that  sort,  they  would  have  fetched  him 
up  in  place  of  a  reply,  and  so  should 
the  rod  have  plied  upon  the  poor  boy's 
buttocks.  I  have  such  a  book  of  theirs 
as  may  well  convert  infidels,  but  it 
shall  never  convert  me,  except  by  turn- 
ing me  more  earnestly  against  them  ; 
and  thus  praying  you  to  commend  me 
to  the  honest  chamberlain,  I  bid  you 
heartily  farewell. 

James  R. 


James   I. 


43 


GROUP  VI. 

THE    GUNPOWDER    PLOT.        1605   A.   D. 


i.  Account  of  Father  John  Gerard. 
(In  "The  Condition  of  Catholics  under 
James  by  John  Morris."  Lond.,  1871, 
p.  96.) 

[Father  Gerard  was  tried  for  com- 
plicity in  the  plot,  but  acquitted.] 

.  .  .  About  ten  days  before  the  Par- 
liament should  have  begun  the  Lord 
Mounteagle  (whose  affection  to  Cath- 
olics hath  long  time  been  known  unto 
divers)  being  at  his  own  house  and  at 
supper,  a  man  came  to  his  page  in  the 
street  and  delivered  him  a  letter  wish- 
ing him  to  deliver  the  same  unto  his 
Lord's  own  hands,  which  the  page 
performed,  but  made  no  stay  of  the 
bringer  thereof,  who  presently  departed. ' 
The  Lord  Mounteagle  not  knowing  the 
hand,  and  seeing  no  name  subscribed, 
caused  one  of  his  men  to  read  it  unto 
him,  and  it  was  of  this  tenour. 

"My  Lord,  out  of  the  love  I  bear 
to  some  of  your  friends,  I  have  a  care 
of  your  preservation,  therefore  I  would 
advise  you,  as  you  tender  your  life,  to 
devise  some  excuse  to  shift  off  your 
attendance  at  this  Parliament,  for  God 
and  man  have  concurred  to  punish  the 
wickedness  of  this  time.  And  think 
not  slightly  of  this  advertisement,  but 
retire  yourself  into  your  country,  where 
you  may  expect  the  event  in  safety. 
For  though  there  be  no  appearance  of 
any  stir,  yet,  I  say,  there  shall  receive 
a  terrible  blow  this  Parliament,  and 
yet  they  shall  not  see  who  hurts  them. 
This  council  is  not  to  be  contemned, 
because  it  may  do  you  good,  and  can 
do  you  no  harm,  for  the  danger  is 
passed  so  soon  as  you  have  burnt  the 
letter.  And  I  hope  God  will  give  you 
the  grace  to  make  use  of  it,  to  Whose 
holy  protection  I  commend  you." 


This  was  the  letter  which  the  Lord 
Mounteagle  having  considered,  and  see- 
ing so  dangerous  matter  contained  in  it, 
he  presently  went  to  the  Lord  of  Salis- 
bury, who  is  Chief  Secretary  of  His 
Majesty,  and  delivered  the  letter  unto 
him,  with  relation  of  all  circumstances 
of  the  receipt  and  reading  of  the  letter. 
The  Lord  of  Salisbury  seemed  not  at 
the  first  to  make  any  great  account  of 
it,  yet  said  he  would  acquaint  some 
other  Lords  of  the  Council  with  the 
same  and  commended  the  Lord  Mount- 
eagle for  his  fidelity  and  his  care  of  His 
Majesty's  safety,  and  of  the  State,  and 
presently  showed  the  letter  to  the  Lord 
Chamberlain,  and  then  both  of  them 
thought  the  letter  might  have  some 
relation  with  other  informations  the 
Lord  of  Salisbury  had  received  beyond 
seas,  concerning  some  business  intended 
by  the  Papists  ;  and  they  seemed  to  think 
there  might  be  some  perilous  attempt 
intended.  And  therefore  they  two  con- 
cluded to  join  with  them  three  other  of 
the  Council,  to  wit,  the  Lord  Admiral 
the  Lord  of  Worcester  and  Northamp- 
ton, to  be  acquainted  with  this  matter; 
who  having  all  of  them  concurred  to- 
gether to  the  examination  of  the  contents 
of  the  said  letter,  they  did  conclude 
(saith  the  book  written  of  the  discovery 
of  this  treason)  that  how  slight  soever 
a  matter  at  the  first  appear,  yet  was  it 
not  absolutely  to  be  condemned,  in 
respect  of  the  care  which  it  behoved 
them  to  have  of  the  preservation  of  His 
Majesty's  person.  Yet  they  resolved, 
for  two  reasons,  first  to  acquaint  the 
King  himself  with  the  same,  beforethey 
proceeded  to  any  further  inquisition  in 
the  matter,  as  well  (saith  the  book)  for 
the  expectation  and  experience  they  had 


44 


James  I, 


of  His  Majesty's  fortunate  judgement  in 
clearing  and  solving  of  obscure  riddles 
a  id  doubtful  mysteries,  as  also  because 
the  more  time  would  in  the  meanwhile 
l>j  given  for  the  practise  to  ripen  (if  any 
was)  whereby  the  discovery  might  be 
ihe  more  clear  and  evident,  and  the 
ground  of  proceeding  thereupon  more 
safe,  just,  and  easy.  And  so  according 
to  their  determination  the  said  Earl  of 
Salisbury  did  repair  to  the  King  upon 
the  Friday  after,  being  All-Hallow-day 
which  was  the  day  after  His  Majesty's 
arrival  from  Royston,  where  he  had 
been  at  his  hunting  exercise,  and  was 
come  up  to  London  to  be  present  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Parliament.  The  Earl 
therefore  finding  the  King  alone  in  his 
gallery,  without  any  other  speech  or 
judgement  giving  of  the  letter,  but  only 
relating  simply  the  form  of  the  delivery 
thereof,  he  presented  it  to  His  Highness. 
The  King  no  sooner  read  the  letter,  but 
after  a  little  pause,  and  then  reading  it 
over  again,  he  delivered  his  judgement 
of  it  in  such  sort,  as  he  thought  it  was 
not  to  be  contemned  ;  for  that  the  style 
of  it  seemed  to  be  more  quick  and  pithy 
than  is  usual  to  be  in  any  pasquil  or  libel, 
the  superfluities  of  idle  brains.  But  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury  perceiving  the  King 
to  apprehend  it  deeplier  than  he  looked 
for,  knowing  his  nature,  told  him  that 
he  thought  by  one  sentence  in  it,  that  it 
was  like  to  be  written  by  some  fool  or 
madman,  reading  to  him  that  sentence 
in  it,  "For the  danger  is  past  as  soon  as 
you  have  burnt  the  letter,"  which  he 
said  was  likely  to  be  the  saying  of  a 
fool ;  for  if  the  danger  was  passed  so 
soon  as  the  letter  was  burnt  then  the 
warning  behoved  to  be  of  little  avail, 
when  the  burning  of  the  letter  might 
make  the  danger  to  be  eschewed.  But 
the  King  by  the  contrary,  considering 
the  former  sentence  in  the  letter,  "That 
they  should  receive  a  terrible  blow  at 
this  Parliament,  and  yet  should  not  see 


who  hurt  them ; "  joining  it  to  the 
sentence  immediately  following  already 
alleged,  did  thereupon  conjecture  that 
the  danger  mentioned  should  be  some 
sudden  danger  by  blowing  up  of  powder. 
For  no  other  insurrection,  rebellion  or 
whatsoever  other  private  or  desperate 
attempt  could  be  committed  orattempted 
in  time  of  Parliament  and  the  authors 
thereof  unseen  except  only  if  it  were  by 
a  blowing  up  of  powder,  which  might 
be  performed  by  one  base  knave  in  a 
dark  corner  :  whereupon  he  was  moved 
to  interpret  and  construe  the  latter 
sentence  in  the  letter  (alleged  by  the 
Earl  of  Salisbury  against  all  ordinary 
sense  and  construction  grammar)  as  if 
by  these  words,  "For  the  danger  is 
passed  as  soon  as  you  have  burned  the 
letter,"  should  be  closely  understood  by 
suddenty  and  quickness  of  the  danger, 
which  should  be  as  quickly  performed 
and  at  an  end,  as  that  paper  should  be 
of  blazing  up  in  the  fire,  turning  the 
word  of  "as  soon ' '  to  the  sense  of  "as 
quickly;"  and  therefore  His  Majesty 
wished  that  before  his  going  to  the 
Parliament,  the  under  rooms  of  the 
Parliament  House  might  be  well  and 
narrowly  searched.  The  Earl  of  Salis- 
bury wondering  at  His  Majesty's  com- 
mentary, which  he  knew  to  be  so  far 
contrary  to  his  ordinary  and  natural 
disposition,  who  did  rather  ever  sin 
upon  the  other  side,  in  not  apprehend- 
ing nor  trusting  the  advertisements  of 
practices  and  perils  whqn  he  was  freely 
informed  of  them,  and  interpreting 
rightly  his  extraordinary  caution  at  this 
time  to  proceed  from  the  vigilant  care 
he  had  of  the  whole  State  more  than  of 
his  own  person,  yet  he  thought  good  to 
dissemble  still  unto  the  King,  that  there 
was  just  cause  of  such  apprehension, 
and  ended  the  present  talk  with  some 
merry  jest  as  his  custom  is.  But  though 
he  seemed  to  neglect  it  to  His  Majesty, 
yet  he  could  not  be  addressed  till  with 


James  I. 


45 


the  Lord  Chamberlain  he  came  again 
unto  His  Majesty,  at  which  time  it  was 
agreed  that  the  said  Lord  Chamberlain 
should  according  to  his  custom  and  office 
view  all  the  Parliament  Houses  both 
above  and  below,  and  consider  what 
likelihood  or  appearance  of  any  such 
danger  might  be  gathered  :  but  yet  this 
was  deferred  until  the  afternoon  before 
the  sitting  down  of  the  Parliament, 
which  was  upon  the  Monday  following  : 
at  what  time,  he  according  to  this  con- 
clusion went  to  the  Parliament  House 
accompanied  with  the  Lord  Mounteagle, 
where  having  viewed  all  the  lower 
rooms,  he  found  in  the  vault  under  the 
Upper  House  great  store  and  provision 
of  billets,  faggots,  and  coals  :  and  in- 
quiring of  Whyneyard,  keeper  of  the 
wardrobe  to  what  use  he  had  put  the 
lower  rooms  and  cellars,  he  told  him 
that  Mr.  Thomas  Percy  had  hired  both 
the  house  and  part  of  the  cellar  or  vault 
under  the  same  and  that  the  wood  and 
coal  therein  was  the  said  gentleman's 
own  provision.  Whereupon  the  Lord 
Chamberlain  looking  into  the  room  per- 
ceived a  fellow  standing  in  a  corner, 
who  called  himself  the  said  Percy  his 
man,  and  keeper  of  that  house  for  him, 
but  indeed  was  Guido  Faulks,  the  man 
that  should  have  acted  that  monstrous 
tragedy. 

The  Lord  Chamberlain  looking  upon 
all  things  with  a  heedful  eye,  though 
in  outward  show  he  seemed  careless, 
presently  addressed  himself  to  the 
King,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord 
Treasurer,  the  Lord  Admiral,  the  Earls 
of  Worcester,  Northampton,  and  Salis- 
bury, he  made  his  report  what  he  had 
seen  and  observed  there,  affirming  that 
he  did  wonder  not  a  little  at  the  extra- 
ordinary great  provisions  of  wood  and 
coal  in  that  house  where  Thomas  Percy 
had  so  seldom  occasion  to  remain,  as 
likewise  it  gave  him  in  his  mind,  that 
his  man    looked    like    a    very  tall    and 


desperate  fellow.  This  could  not  but 
increase  the  King's  former  apprehen- 
sion, whereupon  he  willed  that  those 
billets  and  coals  should  be  searched  to 
the  bottom  :  and  of  the  same  opinion 
were  the  Lords  there  present,  although 
they  thought  it  fit  to  have  it  done  in  the 
night,  and  by  a  Justice  of  Peace  only 
under  pretence  of  searching  for  some 
of  the  King's  stuff  that  was  missing; 
and  this  for  two  reasons ;  one  was  lest 
if  nothing  were  found,  it  should  seem 
the  King  and  State  were  too  suspicious 
of  every  light  toy ;  also  for  that  they 
said  it  would  lay  an  ill-favoured  impu- 
tation upon  the  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, one  of  His  Majesty's  greatest 
subjects  and  Councillors  :  this  Thomas 
Percy  being  his  kinsman  and  most  con- 
fident familiar.  .   .   . 

That  night  following  being  Monday 
night  (when  the  Parliament  should 
have  begun  and  ended  also  the  next 
day)  Sir  Thomas  Knevet,  a  gentleman 
of  His  Majesty's  Privy  chamber,  was 
sent  to  search  the  place  at  midnight 
under  pretence  of  looking  for  some 
other  things  as  was  before  devised. 
When  he  came  to  the  Parliament  House 
before  his  entry  into  Mr.  Percy  his 
lodging,  he  found  the  foresaid  man 
that  had  the  keeping  of  the  house  for 
Mr.  Percy  standing  without  the  house 
and  seeing  him  with  his  clothes  on  and 
booted  at  so  dead  time  of  the  night,  the 
Justice  apprehended  him  :  and  after 
went  forward  to  the  searching  of  the 
house,  where  after  he  had  caused  to  be 
overturned  some  of  the  billets  and 
coals,  he  first  found  one  of  the  small 
barrels  of  powder,  and  after,  all  the 
rest,  to  the  number  of  thirty-six  barrels 
great  and  small.  And  thereafter  search- 
ing the  fellow  whom  he  had  taken, 
found  three  matches  and  all  other 
instruments  fit  for  blowing  up  of  the 
powder  ready  upon  him  :  which  made 
him  instantly  to  confess  what  his  intent 


46 


James  I 


was,  affirming  withal  that  if  he  had 
happened  to  have  been  within  the 
house  when  he  was  taken,  as  he  was 
immediately  before  at  the  ending  of 
his  work,  he  would  not  have  failed  to 
have  blown  up  the  Justice,  house  and 
all.  .   .   . 

The  prisoner  was  carried  fast  bound 
unto  the  Court.  .  .  .  All  that  day  the 
Council  could  get  nothing  out  of  him 
concerning  his  complices,  refusing  to 
answer  to  any  such  questions  which  he 
thought  might  discover  the  plot,  and 
laying  all  the  blame  upon  himself, 
whereunto  he  said  he  was  moved  only 
for  religion  and  conscience  sake,  deny- 
ing the  King  to  be  his  lawful  sovereign 
or  the  anointed  of  God,  in  respect  he 
was  an  heretic.  .  .  .  But  after  he  had 
been  three  or  four  days  in  the  Tower 
and  was  threatened  with  the  rack  only, 
as  the  printed  book  saith  (though  the 
common  voice  was  that  he  was  ex- 
tremely racked  the  first  days),  then, 
whether  to  avoid  torments,  or  for  that 
he  might  understand  that  the  gentlemen 
had  discovered  themselves  by  rising  up 
in  arms  in  the  country,  he  then  named 
some  of  his  complices,  with  his  own 
name  also  [Fawkes],  and  how  the 
matter  was  broken  unto  him,  and  how 
begun  and  prosecuted,  as  I  have  before 
declared ;  yet  I  cannot  find  by  his  con- 
fession which  is  published  in  print, 
that  he  named  above  six  of  those  who 
had  wrought  in  the  mine  and  provision 
of  the  powder  and  who  then  were  all 
known  to  be  up  in  arms.   .   .   . 


2.  Declaration  of  Guy  Fawkes. 
(From  the  Gunpowder  Treason, 
Lond.,  1679.) 

I  confess  that  a  practice  in  general 
was  first  broken  unto  me  against  his 
Majesty  for  relief  of  the  Catholique 
cause,  and  not  invented  or  propounded 
by  myself.  And  this  was  first  pro- 
pounded   unto    me   about    Easter   last 


was  twelve-month,  beyond  the  seas,  in 
the  Low  Countries  of  the  Arch-Duke's 
obeysance,  by  Thomas  Winter,  who 
came  thereupon  with  me  into  England, 
and  there  we  imparted  our  purpose  to 
three  other  Gentlemen  more,  namely 
Robert  Catesby,  Thomas  Percy  and 
John  Wright,  who  all  five  consulting 
together  of  the  means  how  to  execute 
the  same,  and  taking  a  vow  among 
ourselves  for  secresie,  Catesby  pro- 
pounded to  have  it  performed  by  Gun- 
powder, and  by  making  a  myne  under 
the  Upper  House  of  Parliament ;  which 
place  we  made  choice  of  the  rather, 
because  religion  having  been  unjustly 
suppressed  there,  it  was  fittest  that 
justice  and  punishment  should  be  exe- 
cuted there. 

This  being  resolved  amongst  us, 
Thomas  Percy  hired  an  house  at  West- 
minster for  that  purpose,  near  adjoin- 
ing to  the  Parliament  House,  and  there 
we  begun  to  make  our  Myne  about  the 
nth  of  December,  1604. 

The  five  that  first  entered  into  the 
work  were  Thomas  Percy,  Robert 
Catesby,  Thomas  Winter,  John  Wright, 
and  myself  :  and  soon  after  we  took  an- 
other unto  us,  Christopher  Wright, 
having  sworn  him  also,  and  taken  the 
Sacrament  for  secrecy. 

When  we  came  to  the  very  founda- 
tion of  the  wall  of  the  House,  which 
was  about  three  yards  thick,  and  found 
it  a  matter  of  great  difficulty,  we  took 
unto  us  another  gentleman,  Robert 
Winter,  in  like  manner,  with  oath  and 
sacrament  as  aforesaid. 

It  was  about  Christmas  when  we 
brought  our  Myne  unto  the  wall,  and 
about  Candlemas  we  had  wrought  the 
wall  half  through :  and  whilst  they 
were  in  working,  I  stood  as  sentinel,  to 
descrie  any  man  that  came  near, 
whereof  I  gave  them  warning,  and  so 
they  ceased  until  I  gave  notice  again  to 
proceed. 


James  I 


47 


All  we  seven  lay  in  the  house,  and 
had  shot  and  powder,  being  resolved  to 
die  in  that  place  before  we  should  yield 
or  be  taken. 

As  they  were  working  upon  the  wall, 
they  heard  a  rushing  in  a  cellar  of  re- 
moving of  coales,  whereupon  we  feared 
we  had  been  discovered  :  and  they  sent 
me  to  go  to  the  cellar,  who  finding 
that  the  coales  were  a  selling,  and  that 
the  cellar  was  to  be  let,  viewing  the 
commodity  thereof  for  our  purpose, 
Percy  went  and  hired  the  same  for 
yearly  rent. 

We  had  before  this  provided  and 
brought  into  the  house  twenty  barrels 
of  powder,  which  we  removed  into  the 
cellar,  and  covered  the  same  with  bil- 
lets and  fagots,  which  were  provided 
for  that  purpose. 

After  Easter,  the  Parliament  being 
prorogued  till  October  next,  we  dis- 
persed ourselves,  and  I  retired  into  the 
Low  Countreys,  by  advise  and  direction 
of  the  rest,  as  well  as  to  acquaint  Owen 
with  the  particulars  of  the  plot,  as  also 
least  by  my  longer  stay  I  might  have 
grown  suspicious,  and  so  have  come  in 
question. 

In  the  mean  time,  Percy  having  the 
key  of  the  Cellar,  laid  in  more  powder 


and  wood  into  it.  I  returned  about  the 
beginning  of  September  next,  and  then 
receiving  the  key  of  Percy,  we  brought 
in  more  powder  and  billets  to  cover  the 
same  again,  and  so  I  went  again  into 
the  countrey  till  the  30th  of  October.    . 

It  was  further  resolved  amongst  us, 
that  the  same  day  that  this  act  should 
have  been  performed,  some  other  of 
our  confederates  should  have  surprised 
the  person  of  the  Lady  Elizabeth 
[Later  Queen  of  Bohemia],  the  king's 
eldest  daughter,  who  was  kept  in  War- 
wickshire at  the  Lord  Harington's 
house,  and  presently  have  proclaimed 
her  queen,  having  a  project  of  a  proc- 
lamation ready  for  that  purpose,  where- 
in we  made  no  mention  of  altering  of 
religion,  nor  would  have  avowed  the 
deed  to  be  ours,  until  we  should  have 
had  power  enough  to  make  our  party 
good,  and  then  we  would  have  avowed 
both. 

Concerning  Duke  Charles,  the  king' s 
second  son,  we  had  sundry  consulta- 
tions how  to  seize  on  his  person.  But 
because  we  found  no  means  how  to 
compass  it  (the  Duke  being  kept  near 
London,  where  we  had  not  forces 
enough)  we  resolved  to  serve  our  turn 
with  the  Lady  Elizabeth. 


GROUP   VII. 

THE    MARRIAGE    OF    THE    PRINCESS    ELIZABETH    TO    THE    COUNT    PALATINE. 


Extracts  from  the  Letters  of  John 
Chamberlain,  Esq. ,  to  Sir  Dudley  Carle- 
ton.  (In  Court  and  Times  of  James 
L,  London,  1848,  pp.  157.) 

Jan.  28th,  1612. 
.   .   .  We    hear   the   king   is  still    at 
Newmarket,   somewhat   troubled    with 
a  humour  in  his  great  toe,  that  must  not 
be  christened  or  called  the  gout.   .   .   . 
June  17th. 
.  .   .  The    king    hath    been    coming 


and  going  to  Eltham  all  the  last  week. 
.  .  .  But  for  all  his  pleasure,  he  for- 
gets not  business ;  but  hath  found  the 
art  of  frustrating  men's  expectations, 
and  holding  them  in  suspense. 

October  22d. 
The  king  came  from  Theobalds  on 
Saturday,  having  notice  of  the  Count 
Palatine's  arrival  at  Gravesend  the  night 
before.  He  [the  Count  Palatine]  had 
a  very  speedy  and  prosperous  passage ; 


48 


James  I 


for  coming  from  the  Hague  on  Thurs- 
day, at  eleven  o'clock,  he  embarked 
that  evening  at  Maesland  Sluice,  and 
the  next  night,  about  ten,  landed  at 
Gravesend,  where  he  continued  all 
Saturday  ;  and  on  Sunday  morning  the 
Duke  of  Lennox,  and  some  other  noble- 
men and  courtiers,  were  sent  to  con- 
duct him  to  the  court,  where  he  arrived 
about  five  o'clock,  and  was  met  at  the 
Watergate  by  the  Duke  of  York,  at- 
tended by  the  Earls  of  Shrewsbury, 
Worcester,  and  others,  and  so  brought 
through  the  hall,  and  along  the  terrace 
to  the  new  great  chamber,  where  the 
king  expected  him.  The  prince  [Henry, 
heir  apparent]  stirred  not  a  foot,  which 
•was  much  noted.  He  had  a  great  peal 
of  ordnance  as  he  passed  by  the  Tower, 
and  came  with  some  disadvantage  into 
such  presence,  having  been  so  long  on 
the  water  in  the  coldest  days  that  came 
this  winter;  and  yet  he  carried  himself 
with  that  assurance,  and  so  well  and 
gracefully,  both  toward  king,  queen 
and  prince,  and  specially  his  mistress, 
that  he  won  much  love  and  commen- 
dation. The  king  is  much  pleased  in 
him,  and  carried  him  presently  into  his 
bedchamber,  and  there  bestowed  a  ring 
of  the  value  of  £  iSoo  upon  him.  From 
thence  he  was  conveyed  through  the 
privy  lodgings  and  galleries  to  the 
water,  and  so  to  Essex  House,  where 
he  yet  remains ;  but  is  every  day  at 
court,  and  plies  his  mistress  hard,  and 
takes  no  delight  in  running  at  ring,  nor 
tennis,  nor  riding  with  the  prince,  as 
Count  Henry,  his  uncle,  and  others  of 
his  company  do,  but  only  in  her  con- 
versation. On  Tuesday  she  sent  to 
invite  him,  as  he  sat  at  supper,  to  a 
play  of  her  own  servants  in  the  cock- 
pit;  and  yesterday  they  were  all  day 
together  at  Somerset  House,  which  is 
much  beautified  within  this  year  or  two. 
He  hath  a  train  of  very  sober  and  well- 
fashioned  gentlemen  ;    his  whole  num- 


ber is  not  above  170,  servants  and  all, 
.being  limited  by  the  King  not  to  exceed. 
There  have  been  some  called  coram, 
for  scandalous  speeches  of  him  and 
the  match  .  .  .  But  howsoever  some 
would  embase  his  means,  and  mean- 
ness of  estate  and  title  to  match  with 
such  a  lady,  yet  all  do  approve  his 
manners  and  behaviour ;  and  there  be, 
that  stick  not  to  prefer  or  equal  him, 
at  least,  with  the  best  princes  in  Italy 
for  blood  and  dignity,  and  not  far  be- 
hind them  in  revenue  ;  his  rents  and 
earnings  in  being  approved  to  be 
£  160,000  a  year,  besides  provisions, 
which  amount  to  half  as  much  more, 
and  his  charge  and  expense  not  answer- 
able to  theirs.   .   .   . 

Nov.  4th,  161 2. 
.  .  .  The  Count  Palatine  continues 
in  favour  and  liking  with  all,  especially 
at  court,  where  he  is  now  lodged  in  the 
late  lord  treasurer's  lodgings.  Yester- 
day night  the  Lady  Elizabeth  invited 
him  to  a  solemn  supper  and  a  play, 
and  they  meet  often  at  meals  without 
curiosity  or  crowing.  On  Sunday  was 
sevennight  he  dined  with  the  king  and 
prince  in  the  privy  chamber,  but  sat 
bare  all  the  while,  whether  by  custom 
or  rather,  as  is  thought,  to  bear  the 
prince  company,  who  never  come 
abroad  since  that  day,  being  seized  by 
a  fever  that  .  .  .  hath  continued  a 
quotidian  since  Wednesday  last  and 
with  more  violence  than  it  began,  so 
that  on  Saturday  he  was  let  blood  by 
advice  of  most  physicians,  though  But- 
ler, of  Cambridge,  was  loth  to  consent. 
The  blood  proved  foul ;  and  that  after- 
noon he  grew  very  sick,  so  that  both 
king,  queen  and  Lady  Elizabeth  went 
severally  to  visit  him,  and  revelling 
and  plays  appointed  for  that  night  were 
put  off  .  .  .  He  and  the  Count  Pala- 
tine were  invited  and  promised  to  the 
lord    mayor's    feast   on    Thursday  last, 


James  I. 


49 


and  great  preparations  were  made  for 
them  ;  but  by  this  accident  he  failed. 
The  Count  Palatine  and  his  company, 
after  they  had  seen  the  show  in  Cheap- 
side,  went  to  Guildhall,  and  were  there 
feasted  and  welcomed  by  Sir  John 
Swinnerton,  the  new  made  lord  mayor, 
and  presented  toward  the  end  of  the 
dinner  in  the  name  of  the  city  with  a 
fair  standing  cup,  a  curious  basin  and 
ewer,  with  two  large  livery  pots,  weigh- 
ing altogether  1200  ounces,  to  the  value 
almost  of  £500  .  .  .  He  behaved  him- 
self very  courteously  and  in  very  good 
fashion  at  the  feast,  and  would  needs 
go  to  see  and  salute  the  lady  mayoress 
and  her  train  where  she  sat.  The 
show  was  somewhat  extraordinary,  with 
four  or  five  pageants  and  other  devices. 

Nov.  1 2th,  16 1 2. 

When  I  was  closing  up  my  letter  to 
you  the  last  week,  I  understood  more  of 
the  prince's  sickness  than  I  was  willing 
to  impart ;  for  I  knew  it  could  be  no 
welcome  news  anywhere  ;  and  I  was  in 
hopes  the  world  might  amend.  But 
going  the  next  morning,  the  5th  of 
November,  to  hear  the  Bishop  of  Ely 
preach  at  court,  ...  I  found,  by  the 
king  and  queen's  absence  from  the 
sermon,  and  by  his  manner  of  praying 
for  him,  how  the  matter  stood,  and 
that  he  was  pleni  deploratus.  For  I 
cannot  learn  that  he  had  either  speech 
or  perfect  memory  after  Wednesday 
night,  but  lay,  as  it  were,  drawing  on 
till  Friday,  between  eight  and  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  that  he  de- 
parted. The  world  here  is  much  dis- 
mayed at  the  loss  of  so  beloved  and 
likely  a  prince  on  such  a  sudden,  and 
the  physicians  are  much  blamed, 
though,  no  doubt,  they  did  their  best. 
...  It  is  verily  thought  that  the  dis- 
ease was  no  other  than  the  ordinary 
ague  that  hath  reigned  and  raged  al- 
most all  over  England  since  the  latter 


end  of  summer,  which,  by  observation, 
is  found  must  have  its  ordinary  course, 
and  the  less  physic  the  better,  but  only 
sweating,  and  an  orderly  course  of 
keeping  and  government.  The  ex- 
tremity of  the  disease  seemed  to  lie  in 
his  head,  for  remedy  whereof  they 
shaved  him,  and  applied  warm  cocks 
and  pigeons  newly  killed,  but  with  no 
success.  ...  In  his  extremity,  they 
tried  all  manner  of  conclusions  upon 
him,  as  letting  him  blood  in  the  nose, 
and  whatsoever  else  they  could  im- 
agine ;  and,  at  the  last  cast,  gave  him 
a  quintessence  sent  by  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  which,  he  says,  they  should 
have  applied  sooner,  that  brought  him 
to  some  sort  of  sense,  and  opening  his 
eyes,  and  some  will  needs  say,  speech, 
but  all  failed  again  presently. 

Amongst  the  rest  he  [Raleigh]  hath 
lost  his  greatest  hope,  and  was  grown 
into  special  confidence  with  him,  inso- 
much that  he  had  moved  the  king 
divers  times  for  him,  and  had,  lastly,  a 
grant  that  he  should  be  delivered  out  of 
the  Tower  before  Christmas.  ...  It 
is  obsefved-lhat  this  late  prince  never 
cast  or  shed  .his  teeth  from  his  infancy, 
which,  when  Butler  heard  some  days 
since,  he  prophesied  that  he  was  not 
vitalis  or  long-lived.  .  .  .  The  Lady 
Elizabeth  is  much  afflicted  with  this 
loss,  and  not  without  good  cause,  for 
he  did  extraordinarily  affect  her,  and, 
during  his  sickness,  inquired  still  after 
her ;  and  the  last  words  he  spoke  in 
good  sense,  they  say,  were,  "  Where  is 
my  dear  sister?"    .   .   . 

Nov.  19th,  1612. 

.  .  .  The  king  was  quickly  weary  of 
Kensington,  because  he  said  the  wind 
blew  thorough  the  walls  that  he  could 
not  lie  warm  in  his  bed.  He  came  to 
Whitehall  yesterday  was  sevennight 
and  went  away  on  Tuesday  last  to 
Theobalds,  and  is  this  day  for  Royston. 


50 


James  I, 


He  carried  the  Count  Palatine  along 
with  him,  whose  marriage,  by  this  late 
accident,  is  retarded,  because  it  would 
be  thought  absurd  that  foreign  ambas- 
sadors, coming  to  condole  the  prince's 
death,  should  find  us  feasting  and 
dancing ;  so  that  it  is  deferred  till  May- 
day, and  the  mourning  for  the  prince 
to  continue  till  the  24th  of  March,  but 
the  fiancing  is  appointed  the  27th  of 
December,  and  his  counsellors  hope 
and  do  their  best  to  advance  the  mar- 
riage soon  after. 

Dec.  17th,  1612. 

.  .  .  Sir  Francis  Bacon  hath  set  out 
new  essays,  where,  in  a  chapter  of  De- 
formity, the  world  takes  notice  that  he 
paints  out  his  little  cousin  to  the  life. 

Dec.  31st. 
.  .  .  Sir  Thomas  Lake,  on  Sunday 
last,  outstripped  his  competitors  by  one, 
by  reading  the  contract  betwixt  the 
Palsgrave  and  the  Lady  Elizabeth, 
which  is  the  part  of  a  principal  secre- 
tary, praeire  conceptis  verbis,  in  such 
solemn  business.  But  they  say  he  had 
translated  the  words  of  our  Commun- 
ion Book  into  French  so  badly,  and 
pronounced  them  worse,  that  it  moved 
an  unseasonable  laughter,  as  well  in 
the  contractors  as  standers-by.  .  .  . 
This  affiancing  was  solemnized  in  the 
great  banqueting-room  on  Sunday  be- 
fore dinner,  in  the  presence  of  the  king 
and  great  store  of  the  nobility  ;  but  the 
queen  was  absent,  being  troubled,  as 
they  say,  with  the  gout.  The  king  was 
not  out  of  his  chamber  in  three  or  four 
days  before,  nor  since,  having  a  spice 
of  the  same  disease.   .   .   . 

Feb.  4th,  161 2-13. 

.  .  .  The  Prince  Palatine  feasted  all 
the  council  the  last  week,  and  carried 
himself  with  great  commendation,  but 
specially  he  respected  the  archbishop 
and  his  followers  above  all  the  rest  as 


having  received  only  at  his  hands  en- 
tertainment and  kind  usage  since  his 
coming  into  England.  On  Sunday 
last  and  on  Candlemas-day  he  and  his 
lady  were  solemnly  asked  openly  in  the 
chapel  by  the  Bishop  of  Bath  and 
Wells,  and  the  next  Sunday  is  the  last 
time  of  asking. 

There  is  extraordinary  preparations 
for  fireworks  and  fights  upon  the  water, 
with  three  castles,  built  upon  eight 
western  barges,  and  one  great  castle 
upon  the  land,  over  against  the  court. 
One  or  two  of  the  pinnaces  are  come 
already  from  Rochester ;  and  divers 
other  vessels,  to  the  number  of  six  and 
thirty,  are  provided,  some  like  galleys, 
some  galleasses,  and  some  like  car- 
racks,  and  other  ships  of  war;  and 
above  500  watermen,  already  pressed, 
and  1,000  musqueteers  of  the  Trained 
Bands,  in  the  shires  hereabout,  made 
ready  for  this  service,  which,  in  all 
computation,  cannot  stand  the  King  in 
so  little  as  £5,000. 

On  Tuesday,  I  took  occasion  to  go  to 
court,  because  I  had  never  seen  the 
Palsgrave  nor  the  Lady  Elizabeth  near 
hand  for  a  long  time.  I  had  my  full 
view  of  them  both,  but  will  not  tell 
you  what  I  think;  but  only  this,  that 
he  owes  his  mistress  nothing,  if  he 
were  a  king's  son,  as  she  is  a  king's 
daughter.  The  worst  is,  methinks,  he 
is  much  too  young  and  small  timbered 
to  undertake  such  a  task. 

Letter  from  John  Chamberlain,  J£sq.> 
to  Mrs.   Car  let  on. 

London,  February  18,  1612-13. 

Though  Mr.  Wake  be  now  coming, 
and  looks  for  his  dispatch  within  a  day 
or  two,  who  is  able  to  make  a  large 
discourse  of  all  that  passed  at  this  wed- 
ding ;  yet  because  this  is  like  to  arrive 
there  before  him,  I  will  give  you  a 
little  touch    or  taste   of   that,    whereof 


ames 


I. 


Si 


you   may   receive   from    him    full   and 
complete  satisfaction. 

On  Thursday  night  the  fireworks 
were  reasonably  well  performed,  all 
save  the  last  castle  of  fire,  which  bred 
most  expectation,  and  had  most  devices, 
but  when  it  came  to  execution  had 
worst  success.  On  Saturday,  likewise, 
the  fight  upon  the  water  came  short  of 
that  show  and  brags  have  been  made 
of  it ;  but  they  pretend  the  best  to  be 
behind,  and  left  for  another  day,  which 
was  the  winning  of  the  castle  on  land. 
But  the  king  and  all  the  company  took 
so  little  delight  to  see  no  other  activity 
but  shooting  and  putting  of  guns,  that 
it  is  quite  given  over,  and  the  navy 
unrigged,  and  the  castle  pulled  down 
the  rather  for  that  there  were  divers 
hurt  in  the  former  fight,  as  one  lost 
both  his  eyes,  another  both  his  hands, 
another  one  hand,  with  divers  others 
maimed  and  hurt,  so  that  to  avoid 
further  harm  it  was  thought  best  to  let 
it  alone  ;  and  this  is  the  conclusion  of 
all  the  preparation,  with  so  much  ex- 
pense of  powder  and  money,  which 
amounted  to  no  less  than  £9,000. 

On  Sunday,  I  was  fetched  from 
Paul's,  where  I  was  set  at  the  sermon, 
to  see  the  bride  go  to  church ;  and 
though  it  were  past  ten  o'clock  before 
we  came  there,  yet  we  found  a  noble 
window  reserved  in  the  Jewel  House, 
which  was  over  against  her  coming 
down.  A  pair  of  stairs  set  off  the  gal- 
lery, made  along  the  court  into  the 
hall,  so  that  we  had  as  much  view  as  a 
short  passage  could  give ;  but  the  ex- 
cess of  bravery,  and  the  continual  suc- 
cession of  new  company,  did  so  dazzle 
me,  that  I  could  not  observe  the  tenth 
part  of  that  I  wished.  The  bridegroom 
and  bride  were  both  in  a  suit  of  cloth 
of  silver,  richly  embroidered  with  sil- 
ver, her  train  carried  up  by  thirteen 
young  ladies,  or  lords'  daughters,  at 
least,    besides   five   or    six    more  that 


could  not  come  near  it.  These  were 
all  in  the  same  livery  with  the  bride, 
though  not  so  rich.  The  bride  was 
married  in  her  hair,  that  hung  down 
long,  with  an  exceeding  rich  coronet 
on  her  head,  which  the  king  valued  the 
next  day  at  a  million  of  crowns.  Her 
two  bridemen  were  the  young  prince 
and  the  Earl  of  Northampton.  The 
king  and  queen  both  followed,  the 
queen  all  in  white,  but  not  very  rich, 
saving  in  jewels.  The  king,  me- 
thought,  was  somewhat  strangely  at- 
tired in  a  cap  and  feather,  with  a 
Spanish  cape  and  a  long  stocking. 
The  chapel  was  very  straitly  kept, 
none  suffered  to  enter  under  the  degree 
of  a  baron,  but  the  three  lords  chief 
justices.  In  the  midst  there  was  a 
handsome  stage  or  scaffolding  made  on 
the  one  side,  whereon  sat  the  king, 
prince.  Count  Palatine,  and  Count 
Henry  of  Nassau.  On  the  other  side, 
the  queen,  with  the  bride  and  one  or 
two  more.  Upon  this  stage  they  were 
married  by  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, assisted  by  the  Bishop  of  Bath 
and  Wells,  who  made  the  sermon.  It 
was  done  all  in  English,  and  the 
Prince  Palatine  had  learned  as  much  as 
concerned  his  part  reasonably  perfectly. 
The  French,  Venetian,  and  State's  am- 
bassadors, dined  that  day  with  the 
bride.  The  Spanish  ambassador  was 
sick,  and  the  archduke's  was  invited 
for  the  day,  but  would  not  come. 

That  night  was  the  lord's  masque, 
whereof  I  hear  no  great  commendation, 
save  only  for  riches,  their  devices  being 
long  and  tedious,  and  more  like  a  play 
than  a  masque.  The  next  morning,  the 
king  went  to  visit  these  young  turtles 
that  were  coupled  on  St.  Valentine's 
day,  and  did  strictly  examine  him 
whether  he  were  a  true  son-in-law  and 
was  sufficiently  assured.  That  after- 
noon the  king,  prince,  Count  Palatine, 
with  divers  others,  ran  at  the  ring,  and, 


52 


James  I. 


when  that  was  ended,  and  the  king  and 
prince  gone,  the  Palsgrave  mounted 
upon  a  high-bounding  horse,  which  he 
managed  so  like  a  horseman,  that  he 
was  exceedingly  commended,  and  had 
many  shouts  and  acclamations  of  the 
beholders ;  and,  indeed,  I  never  saw 
any  of  his  age  come  near  to  him  in  that 
exercize. 

It  were  long  and  tedious  to  tell  you  all 
the  particulars  of  the  excessive  bravery, 
both  of  men  and  women,  but  you  may 
conceive  the  rest  by  one  or  two.  The 
Lady  Wotton  had  a  gown  that  cost  fifty 
pounds  a  yard  the  embroidery.  I  hear, 
the  Earl  of  Northumberland's  daughter 
was  very  gallant,  and  the  Lord  Monta- 
cute,  that  hath  paid  reasonably  well  for 
recusancy,  bestowed  fifteen  hundred 
pounds  in  apparel  for  his  two  daugh- 
ters. The  Viscount  Rochester,  the 
Lord  Hay  and  the  Lord  Dingwall, 
were  exceeding  rich  and  costly ;  but, 
above  all,  they  speak  of  the  Earl  of 
Dorset.  But  this  extreme  cost  and 
riches  makes  us  all  poor. 

On  Monday  night  was  the  Middle 
Temple  and  Lincoln's  Inn  masque  pre- 
pared in  the  hall  at  court,  whereas  the 
lords'  was  in  the  banqueting  room.  It 
went  from  the  Rolls  all  up  Fleet  Street 
and  the  Strand,  and  made  such  a  gal- 
lant and  glorious  show,  that  it  is  highly 
commended.  They  had  forty  gentle- 
men of  best  choice  out  of  both  houses, 
and  the  twelve  masquers,  with  their 
torch-bearers  and  pages,  rode  likewise 
upon  horses  exceedingly  well  frapped 
and  furnished,  besides  a  dozen  little 
boys,  dressed  like  baboons,  that  served 
for  an  anti-masque,  and,  they  say,  per- 
formed it  exceedingly  well  when  they 
came  to  it ;  and  three  open  chariots, 
drawn  with  four  horses  apiece,  and 
carried  their  musicians  and  other  per- 
sonages that  had  parts  to  speak.  All 
which,  together  with  their  frumpeters 
and  other  attendants,  were  so  well  set 


out,  that  it  is  generally  held  for  the  best 
show  that  hath  been  seen  many  a  day. 
The  king  stood  in  the  gallery  to  behold 
them,  and  made  them  ride  about  the 
Tilt  Yard,  and  then  they  were  received 
into  St.  James's  Park,  and  so  out,  all 
along  the  galleries,  into  the  hall,  where 
themselves  and  their  devices,  which  they 
say  were  excellent,  made  such  a  glittei-- 
ing  show,  that  the  king  and  all  the  com- 
pany were  exceedingly  pleased,  and 
especially  with  their  dancing,  which 
was  beyond  all  that  hath  been  seen  yet. 
The  king  made  the  masters  kiss  his 
hand  on  parting,  and  gave  them  many 
thanks,  saying,  he  never  saw  so  many 
proper  men  together,  and  himself  ac- 
companied them  at  the  banquet,  and 
took  care  it  should  be  well  ordered,  and 
speaks  much  of  them  behind  their 
backs,  and  strokes  the  master  of  the 
rolls  and  Dick  Martin,  who  were  chief 
doers  and  undertakers. 

On  Tuesday  it  came  to  Gray's  Inn 
and  the  Inner  Temple's  turn  to  come 
with  their  masque,  whereof  Sir  Francis. 
Bacon  was  the  chief  contriver ;  and, 
because  the  former  masque  came  on 
horseback  and  in  open  chariots,  they 
made  choice  to  come  by  water  from 
Winchester  Place,  in  Southwark,  which 
suited  well  with  their  device,  which 
was  the  marriage  of  the  river  of  Thames 
to  the  Rhine  ;  and  their  show  by  water 
was  very  gallant,  by  reason  of  infinite 
store  of  lights,  very  curiously  set  and 
placed,  and  many  boats  and  barges, 
with  devices  of  light  and  lamps,  with 
three  peals  of  ordnance,  one  at  their 
taking  water,  another  in  the  Temple 
Garden,  and  the  last  at  their  landing ; 
which  passage  by  water  cost  them  bet- 
ter than  three  hundred  pounds.  They 
were  received  at  the  Privy  Stairs,  and 
great  expectation  there  was  that  they 
should  every  way  excel  their  competi- 
tors that  went  before  them  ;  but  in  de- 
vice, daintiness  of  apparel  and,  above  allr 


James  I. 


53 


in  dancing,  wherein  they  are  held  excel- 
lent, and  esteemed  for  the  properer  men. 

But  by  what  ill  planet  it  fell  out,  I 
know  not,  they  came  home  as  they 
went,  without  doing  anything  ;  the  rea- 
son whereof  I  cannot  yet  learn  thor- 
oughly, but  only  that  the  hall  was  so 
full  that  it  was  not  possible  to  avoid  it, 
or  make  room  for  them  ;  besides  that, 
most  of  the  ladies  were  in  the  galleries 
to  see  them  land,  and  could  not  get  in. 
But  the  worst  of  all  was,  that  the  king 
was  so  wearied  and  sleepy  with  sitting 
up  almost  two  whole  nights  before,  that 
he  had  no  edge  to  it.  Whereupon,  Sir 
Francis  Bacon  adventured  to  entreat  of 
his  majesty  that  by  this  difference  he 
would  not,  as  it  were,  bury  them  quick  ; 
and  I  hear,  the  king  should  answer, 
that  then  they  must  bury  him  quick,  for 
he  could  last  no  longer,  but  withal  gave 
them  very  good  words,  and  appointed 
them  to  come  again  on  Saturday.  But 
the  grace  of  their  masque  is  quite  gone, 
when  their  apparel  hath  been  already 
showed,  and  their  devices  vented,  so 
that  how  it  will  fall  out  God  knows, 
for  they  are  much  discouraged  and  out 
of  countenance,  and  the  world  says  it 
comes  to  pass  after  the  old  proverb,  the 
properer  man  the  worse  luck. 

One  thing  I  had  almost  forgotten, 
that  all  this  time,  there  was  a  course 
taken,  and  so  notified  that  no  lady  or 
gentleman  should  be  admitted  to  any  of 
these  sights  with  a  vardingale,  which 
was  to  gain  the  more  room,  and  I  hope 
may  serve  to  make  them  quite  left  off 
in  time.  And  yet  there  were  more 
scaffolds,  and  more  provisions  made  for 
room  than  ever  I  saw,  both  in  the  hall 
and  banqueting  room,  besides  a  new 
room  built  to  dine  and  dance  in. 

John  Chamberlain  Esq.  to  Sir  Dud- 
Icy  Car  let  on. 

London,  February  25,  161 2-13. 

The  King  went  away  on  Monday  to 


Theobalds,  and  so  towards  Royston  and 
Newmarket,  whence  he  is  not  expected 
till  the  22nd  of  March.  The  Prince 
and  Count  Palatine  follow  him  this  day, 
and  mean  the  next  week  to  visit  Cam- 
bridge. And  there  is  speech  that  be- 
fore Easter-day  they  will  make  a  prog- 
ress to  Oxford,  which  will  be  a  good 
errand  for  the  young  married  gentle- 
man, whose  friends  and  followers  wish 
he  might  oftener  have  occasion  to  visit 
his  uncle.  All  well-affected  people 
take  great  pleasure  and  contentment  in 
this  match,  as  being  a  firm  foundation 
and  establishing  of  religion,  which, 
upon  what  ground  I  know  not,  was 
before  suspected  to  be  en  branle,  and 
the  Roman  Catholics  malign  it  as  much 
as  being  the  ruin  of  their  hopes.  The 
queen,  likewise,  is  well  come  about, 
and  graces  it  all  she  can,  and  seems  to 
take  special  comfort  in  him. 

Yesterday  was  the  great  christening 
of  the  Earl  of  Salisbury's  daughter,  in 
the  chapel  at  court,  whence  the  queen, 
Prince  Palatine,  Lady  Elizabeth's  high- 
ness, and  all  the  company  conveyed 
it  home,  and  went  by  water  to  the 
banquet. 

Our  revels  and  triumphs  within  doors 
gave  great  contentment,  being  Doth 
dainty  and  curious  in  devices  and  sump- 
tuous in  show,  especially  the  inns  of 
court,  whose  two  masques  stood  them 
in  better  than  £4,000,  besides  the  gal- 
lantry and  expense  of  private  gentle- 
men that  were  but  ante  ambulores,  and 
went  only  to  accompany  them.  And 
our  Gray's  Inn  men  and  the  Inner 
Templars  were  nothing  discouraged, 
for  all  the  first  dodge,  but  on  Saturday 
last  performed  their  parts  exceeding 
well  and  with  great  applause  and  ap- 
probation, both  from  the  king  and  all 
the  company.  The  next  night,  the 
king  invited  the  masquers,  with  their 
assistants,  to  the  number  of  forty,  to 
a  solemn  supper  in  the  new  marriage- 


54 


James  I. 


room,  where  they  were  well  treated 
and  much  graced  with  kissing  her 
majesty's  hand,  and  every  one  having 
a  particular  accoglienza  from  him. 
The  king  husbanded  the  matter  so  well 
that  this  feast  was  not  at  his  own  cost, 
but  he  and  his  company  won  it  upon 
a  wager  of  running  at  the  ring,  of  the 
prince  and  his  nine  followers,  who  paid 
£30  a  man.  The  king,  queen,  prince, 
Count  Palatine  and  Lady  Elizabeth 
sat  at  table  by  themselves,  and  the 
great  lords  and  ladies,  with  the  mas- 
quers, above  four  score  in  all,  sat  at 
another  long  table,  so  that  there  was 
no  room  for  them  that  made  the  feast, 
but  they  were  fain  to  be  lookers-on, 
which  the  young  Lady  Rich  took  no 
great  pleasure  in,  to  see  her  husband, 
who  was  one  that  paid,  not  so  much 
as  drink  for  his  money. 


Extracts  from  Letters  to  the  Rev. 
Joseph  Mead.  (In  Court  and  Times 
of  James  I.     Vol.  II.  p.  252.) 

London,  May  4th,  162 1. 

.  .  .  On  Tuesday,  Floyd,  a  coun- 
cillor, steward,  and  receiver  in  Shrop- 
shire .  .  .  was  censured  to  ride  thrice 
with  papers,  and  stand  in  the  pillory, 
and  first  at  Westminster,  for  saying, 
"  Goodman  Palsgrave,  and  goody  Pals- 
grave, may,  or  must  go  pack  their  chil- 
dren at  their  backs,  and  beg."  On 
Wednesday  should  have  been  the  first 
time,  but  his  majesty  stayed  it. 

Yesterday,  the  king  and  the  House 
met.  His  majesty  thanked  them  for 
the  care  they  had  of  his  son-in-law's, 
daughter' s,  and  grandchildren' s  honour. 
If  it  were  in  them  to  censure  his  pris- 
oner, the  censure  should  be  executed ; 
otherwise,  there  should  be  a  punish- 
ment equivalent  to  that  they  had  set 
down.    Which  gave  good  content.   .    .   . 

June  1,  162 1. 
On  Saturday  last,  the    lords    of   the 


Upper  House  added  unto  Floyd's  cen- 
sure, formerly  passed  in  the  Lower 
House.  On  Monday,  he  received  part 
of  his  punishment;  for  he  rode  from 
Fleet  Bridge  to  the  Standard  in  Cheap 
side;  his  face  towards  the  horse's  tail, 
and  papers  about  his  hat,  bearing  this 
inscription,  "  For  using  ignominious  and 
despiteful  behaviour,  reproachful  and 
malicious  words  against  the  Prince  and 
Princess  Palatine,  the  king' s  only  daugh- 
ter and  children."  There  he  stood  two 
hours  on  the  pillory,  when  he  had  the  K 
branded  on  his  forehead,  and  was  con- 
veyed to  the  fleet.  To-day  he  shall 
have  rid  thence  to  Westminster  Palace, 
there  to  have  stood  two  hours  also  on 
the  pillory ;  thence  to  have  been 
whipped  to  Newgate,  there  to  remain 
in  perpetual  imprisonment,  fined  in 
£5,000,  and  never  to  bear  arms,  or 
come  in  company  of  gentle  or  honest 
men.  But  yester  evening,  it  was  gen- 
erally said,  the  prince  had  begged  of 
the  House  the  release  of  this  day's  pun- 
ishment, and  of  the  king  his  fine.  But 
whether  true  or  not,  I  yet  know  not. 

Jan.  nth. 
.  .  .  The  same  day,  his  majesty  rode 
by  coach  to  Theobald's  to  dinner.  .  .  . 
After  dinner,  riding  on  horseback 
abroad,  his  horse  stumbled,  and  cast 
his  majesty  into  the  New  River,  where 
the  ice  broke  ;  he  fell  in  so  far,  that 
nothing  but  his  boots  were  seen  Sir 
Richard  Young  was  next,  who  alighted, 
went  into  the  river,  and  lifted  him  out. 
There  came  much  water  out  of  his 
mouth  and  body. 

Mr.    Thomas    Locke    to    Sir  Dudley 
Car  let  on. 

Jan.  12,  1621-2. 
...  A  servant  to  one  Mr.  Byng,  a 
counsellor,  is  deeply  questioned  for 
saying,  that  there  would  be  a  rebellion, 
or  to  that  effect.  He  hath  been  upon  the 
rack,  and  they  say  it  will  cost  him  his  life. 


James  I. 


55 


GROUP   VIIL 

THE    SPANISH    MARRIAGE-PROJECT. 


Extracts  from  Private  Letters.  (In 
Court  and  Times  of  James  I.  Ed.  by 
author  of  Sophia  Dorothea.  London, 
1848.) 

Rev.    Joseph    Mead   to    Sir    Martin 
Stuteville. 

Christ  College,  March  1,  1622-3. 

When  I  wrote  my  last,  I  was  not 
then  fully  persuaded  of  the  prince's 
[Charles  L]  going  to  Spain,  though 
the  report  were  frequent,  from  London. 
But,  within  an  hour  after,  I  believed 
it ;  but  it  was  too  late  to  open  my 
letter  again,  being  sealed  and  sent. 
The  news  enclosed  would  fain  hope 
that  he  is  gone  some  whither  else  than 
to  Spain  ;  but  they  have,  that  hope  so, 
no  ground  but  desire.  The  persuasion 
of  most  is  otherwise. 

It  was  something  strange,  that,  when 
the  prince  desired  to  go  so  concealedly, 
it  should  be  publicly  revealed  and 
talked,  even  by  the  court,  before, 
almost,  he  was  out  of  the  land.  Sure 
I  am  that  at  London  it  came  to  town 
on  Tuesday  night,  and  was  general  all 
Wednesday,  the  morning  of  which  day 
he  took  ship.  .  .  .  How  could  it  come 
from  Dover  to  London  so  soon  ?  or  how 
could  they  discover  they  were  for  Spain  ? 

I  shall  not  need  tell  you  how  we  en- 
tertained the  ambassadors  of  Spain  and 
Brussels  .  .  .  how  our  doctors  pledged 
healths  to  the  infanta  and  the  arch- 
duchess ;  and,  if  any  left  too  big  a 
snuff  ["heeltaps"]  Columbo  would 
cry,  "  Supernaculum !  Supernacu- 
lum /  "    .   .   . 

John    Chamberlain  to  Dudley 
Car  let  on. 
London,  March  8,  1622-3. 
We  have  little  certainty  of  the  prince's 
journey  since  his  going  hence,  but  only 


that  they  landed  at  Boulogne  the 
Wednesday,  and  rode  three  posts  that 
same  night.  On  Friday  they  came  to 
Paris,  very  weary;  and,  resting  there 
all  Saturday,  went  away  early  on  Sun- 
day morning.  Some  give  out,  that 
during  their  abode  there  they  saw  the 
king  at  supper,  and  the  queen  practis- 
ing a  ball  with  divers  other  ladies, 
which,  though  it  be  somewhat  con- 
fidently affirmed,  yet  I  think  it  not 
probable,  by  reason  it  was  their  first 
Saturday  in  Lent.  .  .  .  Divers  of  their 
servants  and  followers  are  gone  after 
them  by  land,  and  more  preparing  to 
go  by  sea.   .    .   . 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 
London,  March  14th,  1622-3. 
The  prince  and  my  lord  marquis 
came  well  through  the  greater  part  of 
France,  to  and  from  Bordeaux,  though 
not  unknown,  and  were  offered  great 
honor.  .  .  .  The  Lords  Andover, 
Vaughan,  and  Kensington  went  hence 
also  twelve  days  ago  that  way  overland 
for  Spain.  The  beginning  of  next  week 
there  go  likewise  hence  about  200  per- 
sons more,  of  nobles,  knights,  gentle- 
men and  others,  towards  Portsmouth, 
there  to  embark  in  two  ships  .  .  . 
and  afterwards  to  ride  overland  to 
Madrid.  .  .  .  Two  days  ago  came 
Count  Mansfield's  secretary  hither,  and 
rode  the  second  and  last  time,  to  present 
his  master's  service  to  our  sovereign. 
But  alas  !  our  hands  are  now  bound  by 
the  absence  of  our  most  precious  jewel. 

Rev.    Joseph   Mead  to    Sir    Martin 
Stuteville. 

Christ  College,  Mar.  15th,  1622-3. 
.   .   .  The  King  heard   our   comedy 
on  Wednesday,  but  expressed    no   re- 


56 


James  I. 


markable  mirth  thereat.  He  laughed 
once  or  twice  towards  the  end.  At 
dinner,  before  the  comedy,  their  talk 
in  the  presence  was,  as  I  heard,  most 
of  the  prince.  One  present  tells  me, 
that  he  heard  the  king  say,  he  hoped 
he  would  bring  the  lady  with  him.  .  .  . 
On  Monday  last,  Dr.  Man  and  Dr. 
Wren  had  their  despatch  at  New- 
market for  Spain.  They  also  asked 
the  King's  advice  what  they  should  do, 
if  they  chanced  to  meet  the  host  car- 
ried in  the  streets  as  the  manner  is ; 
who  answered,  that  they  should  avoid 
to  meet  it  if  they  could  :  if  not,  they 
must  do  as  they  did  there  and  so  give 
no  scandal.  But  I  suppose  they  ex- 
pected another  answer,  for  a  better 
privilege,  as  being  his  son's  chaplains; 
but  it  is  a  hard  case. 

John  Chamberlain  to  Dudley 
Car  let  on. 
London,  March  21st,  1622-3. 
.  .  .  For  want  of  other  matter,  I 
send  you  here  certain  verses  made  upon 
Jack's  and  Tom's  journey;  for  the 
prince  and  marquis  went  through  Kent 
under  the  names  of  Jack  and  Tom 
Smith.  They  [the  verses]  were  fath- 
ered first  upon  the  king,  but,  I  hear 
since,  they  were  only  corrected  and 
amended  by  him.  The  other  paper  is 
but  a  toy,  touching  the  great  loss  of 
the  library  at  Heidelberg.  .  .  .  The 
last  news  we  heard  of  the  prince  came 
this  day  sevennight  from  Walsingham 
Greisley  .  .  .  who  met  them  the  2nd 
of  this  month,  almost  a  day's  journey 
within  France.  ...  It  seems  .  .  . 
that  things  are  not  so  forward  and  ripe 
there  [in  Spain]  as  we  take  them. 
But  what  this  noble  ingenuity  and  con- 
fidence to  commit  and  cast  himself  into 
their  hands  may  work,  is  uncertain. 
.  .  .  The  young  Lord  Compton  hath 
charge  of  the  jewels  that  are  to  be  sent 
and  presented  ;  which  are  the  choice  of 


all  in  the  Tower,  and  estimated  at 
£200,000;  but,  by  the  more  moderate, 
at  £80,000.  There  is  a  continual 
posting,  likewise,  through  France, 
which*,  together  with  the  expense  that 
the  others  must  make  from  the  sea-side 
to  Madrid,  will  so  exhaust  our  coin, 
that  is  so  scant  already,  that  it  is  feared 
we  shall  be  driven  to  use  black  moneys, 
as  they  call  it,  and  is  now  in  a  manner 
altogether  current  in  Spain.  And  wise 
men  stick  not  to  say  that  this  match, 
one  way  or  other,  will  stand  the  king 
and  kingdom  in  as  much  as  she  is  like 
to  bring,  besides  whatsoever  else  may 
like  to  happen.  Many  of  our  church- 
men are  hardly  held  in,  and  their 
tongues  itch  to  be  talking.  .  .  .  On 
Sunday  last,  in  the  parish  church  next 
to  us,  one  went  so  far,  that  the  parson 
of  the  church  caused  the  clerk  to  sing 
him  down  with  a  psalm,  before  he  had 
half  done. 

A  Letter  from  Spain. 

March  18-28,  1622-3. 

You  shall  understand  that  the  prince 
and  marquis  arrived  here  under  the 
names  of  Brown  and  Smith,  upon  the 
17th  day  of  this  present  month.  It 
was  presently  blazed  abroad,  and  the 
second  day  after,  the  king  brought  out 
his  sister,  in  great  state,  to  be  seen  of 
the  prince  ;  and,  late  at  night,  the  king 
and  he  had  a  private  meeting  in  the 
fields,  hard  by  the  town.  He  lay  ten 
days  at  my  Lord  of  Bristol's  house, 
and  yesterday  he  made  a  most  stately 
and  magnificent  entry  into  the  king's 
palace,  under  a  most  rich  cloth  of  state. 
The  king  himself,  with  all  the  guards 
and  councils,  came  to  accompany  him, 
and  it  was  decreed  by  the  council  of 
State,  that  the  King  should  give  him 
the  hand  at  all  meetings. 

He  went  in  the  same  form  and  state 
that  the  Kings  of  Spain  do  at  their 
coronation.     It  is  beyond  imagination, 


James  I. 


57 


to  think  what  shouts  and  acclamations 
of  joy  ran  amongst  the  people,  crying, 
"Vive  el  Princesse  d'  Ingilterra ! " 
He  is  now  in  the  palace,  attended  by 
Spaniards,  and  they  are  noblemen  :  his 
table  is  served  with  flesh,  though  in 
Lent.  There  was  a  day  of  triumphs, 
and  running  at  the  ring  appointed, 
which  was  not  well  performed  by  the 
Spanish  courtiers  in  taking  the  same, 
but  was  often  missed.  But  the  prince, 
taking  his  horse  and  spear  in  hand,  did 
run  at  the  ring,  and  at  first  took  it,  and 
laid  it  down,  and  run  no  more  at  that 
time ;  which  caused  great  admiration. 
The  king,  at  his  first  entry  into  the 
palace,  congratulated  his  welcome  with 
the  gift  of  all  offices  falling  in  the  time 
of  his  residence  in  Spain. 

In  the  king's  house,  about  300  pris- 
oners, some  of  them  for  very  enormous 
crimes  committed,  were  freed ;  and 
there  is  order  given  to  release  any 
English,  Irish,  or  Scottish  galley-slaves 
throughout  all  Spain.  There  is  another 
order  come  out,  that  no  man  shall 
scandalize  or  abuse  any  man  about 
matters  of  religion.  Likewise,  the 
reformation  of  ruffs,  gold  and  silver 
lace,  is  recalled,  and  both  men  and 
women  may  wear  what  they  list,  whilst 
the  prince  is  here.  .  .  .  We  hope  all  mat- 
ters will  be  here  absolutely  concluded 
by  Michaelmas,  and  the  prince  and  his 
equipage  to  sail  home  with  his  new  wife. 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

London,  March  28,  1623. 
The  prince's  highness,  the  7th  of  this 
present  .  .  .  came  with  the  lord  mar- 
quis [Buckingham],  to  the  Earl  of 
Bristol's  house,  at  Madrid.  .  .  .  The 
next  morning,  before  they  were  up,  the 
king  sent  his  favourite  to  welcome  the 
marquis,  who,  with  the  prince,  pres- 
ently arose ;  but  yet,  before  they  could 
be  ready  to  admit  the  favourite,  the 
king  himself   was  come.       Great  was 


the  joy  at  meeting,  and  the  king  said, 
though  it  were  Lent,  it  should  not  be 
Lent  to  him  ;  but  he  should  have  all 
that  he  would,  and  the  country  could 
afford.  Yea,  and  the  better  to  express 
his  affection,  he  desired  the  prince  to 
tell  him  wherein  he  should  chiefly 
pleasure  him  the  first  day ;  who  an- 
swered, in  letting  him  see  his  mistress, 
for  whose  sake  he  had  undertaken  so 
long,  wearisome  and  dangerous  a  jour- 
ney. The  king  promised,  sent  pres- 
ently for  her  to  meet  him  in  coach  on  a 
plain.  Abroad  they  go ;  the  prince 
with  the  king  in  his  coach  (which 
made  the  people  wonder  what  stranger 
it  should  be)  ;  the  marquis  in  the  fa- 
vourite's coach.  The  Lady  Mary  came 
to  the  place  appointed,  and  stood  with 
her  coach  abreast  the  king's.  The 
king  bade  her  unmask,  because  he 
would  talk  with  her.  She  unmasks ; 
they  talk.  The  prince  sees  her,  and 
she  him  ;  but  they  spake  not  together. 
Then  they  parted,  and  the  king  brought 
the  prince  back ;  by  which  time  the 
rumour  was  spread  abroad  that  it  was 
the  prince.  The  people  so  flocked  and 
thronged  to  see  him,  that  the  coaches 
could  hardly  pass.  .  .  .  The  prince,  as 
is  said,  saw  the  lady  three  times,  in 
manner  as  at  first,  but  still  without 
speaking  to  her.   ... 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

London,  Apr.  4th,  1623. 
On  Tuesday  night  last,  our  bells 
rung  merrily,  and  our  streets  glittered 
with  bon-fires,  for  joy  of  the  prince's 
safe  coming  to  the  Spanish  court,  and 
his  wonderful,  great,  and  royal  enter- 
tainment there.  The  prince,  from 
Paris  to  Madrid,  being  about  750 
miles,  in  thirteen  days ;  which  was 
near  upon  sixty  miles,  one  day  with 
another.  The  last  Sunday  came  Mr. 
Grimes,  of  the  prince's  bedchamber, 
hither  in  fifteen  days  from  Spain.   .   .  . 


58 


James  I. 


To  the  Same. 
London,  April  nth,  1623. 
With  the  first  and  last  ships,  there 
went,  amongst  others  of  the  prince's 
servants,  eight  of  his  footmen ;  with 
three  more  to  go  now,  viz.,  the  George, 
of  the  king's,  that  goes  to  fetch  back 
the  marquis,  and  two  hired  ships,  to 
carry  eight  great  tilting  horses  and  fair 
ambling  geldings,  of  the  prince's; 
there  go  twenty-two  more  of  his  foot- 
men, which,  with  the  former  eight, 
make  thirty,  the  very  apparrelling  of 
which  stands  in  £3,000. 

John  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley 
Car  let  on. 

London,  April  19th,  1623. 

.  .  .  Sir  John  Wentworth  ...  is 
lately  become  a  Roman  Catholic,  for- 
sooth, as  likewise  the  Lord  Vaughan, 
the  prince's  comptroller,  who  never 
discovered  himself  till  now,  and  it  is 
likely,  at  the  infanta's  coming,  we  shall 
have  many  more  fall  away  as  fast  as 
withered  leaves  in  autumn.  .  .  .  Let 
men  think  and  talk  what  they  will,  the 
king  knows  more  than  we  all,  and  is 
very  confident  of  the  success,  and  joys 
much  to  talk  of  the  prince's  journey. 

May  3rd. 
.  .  .  Now  for  the  infanta's  part:  it 
is  said  she  is  to  have  £8,000  jointure 
for  every  £100,000  she  is  to  bring, 
which,  being  given  out  to  be  £600,000, 
it  will  make  a  great  breach  into  the 
crown  land,  which  hath  been  so  much 
weakened  already,  and  this  must  be 
confirmed  by  Parliament ;  with  divers 
other  prerogatives  and  privileges  she  is 
to  have  more  than  ever  Queen  of  Eng- 
land had.  .  .  .  The  fleet  is  preparing 
with  all  speed,  and  the  prince's  ship  so 
richly  furnished  with  all  manner  of 
bedding,  hangings,  and  the  like,  as  hath 


not  been  seen  at  sea ;  and  all  things  are 
so  carried,  as  if  we  were  to  receive 
some  goddess  to  come  among  us.   .   .   . 

Rev.  Joseph  Mead  to  Sir  Martin 
Stuteville. 
Christ  College,  May  24,  1623. 

.  .  .  All  the  prince's  servants,  chap- 
lains, and  all,  are  said  to  be  coming 
back,  as  having  not  only  no  employ- 
ment, but  no  permission  to  come  at 
their  master.  That  an  inhibition  from 
our  king  is  given  to  all  the  English  in 
Spain,  merchants  and  others,  not  to 
write  anything  into  England  to  their 
friends  about  the  prince  and  his  affairs. 

My  Lord  Hay  is  returned,  but  tells 
nothing,  save  only,  that  because  he 
would  not  lose  his  journey  into  Spain, 
he  made  means  to  be  honoured  so 
much  as  but  to  see  the  infanta,  and  kiss 
her  hand  afore  his  return  for  England  ; 
which,  with  much  difficulty  and  im- 
portunity, he  at  length  obtained,  and 
was  brought  into  a  room,  where  she 
was  placed  in  a  throne  aloft,  divers, 
steps  from  the  ground,  and  gloriously 
set  forth,  with  her  ladies  about  her. 
But  my  lord,  with  his  complimental 
motions  and  approaches,  could  not 
draw  so  much  from  her  as  the  least 
nod  or  inclination  of  her  body  ;  no,  not 
when  he  ascended  up  the  steps  unto 
her,  so  much  as  to  put  out  her  hand  to 
him,  when  he  was  to  kiss  it ;  she  re- 
maining all  the  while  as  immoveable 
as  the  image  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  when 
suppliants  bow  to  her  on  festival  days. 
This,  they  say,  is  the  Spanish  state. 
He  complimented  with  her,  but  what 
she  answered  is  not  told.  This  I  had 
from  Dr.  BalcanquaPs  brother,  and  he 
from  him. 

May  30th,  1623. 

.  .  .  The  Lord  Leppington  landed 
this  week,  and  hath  brought  back  all, 
or  most   part   of   the   prince's  servants. 


James  I 


59 


that  were  sent  after  him.  They  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  going  and  coming 
back  from  Spain  by  sea  ;  for  I  hear  of 
few  or  none  but  himself  that  went  to 
Madrid.   .   .   . 

In  the  mean  time  some  mutter  that 
we  presume  much  upon  the  Spaniard  ; 
that  we  trust  him  with  our  only  prince, 
the  principal  and  richest  jewel  of  the 
crown,  and  the  best  part  of  our  navy, 
all  at  once ;  besides  so  many  other  men 
of  worth.  .  .  .  We  look  daily  to  hear 
the  solemnization  of  the  marriage. 
The  Lord  Rochford  is  to  bring  the 
news  of  the  time  appointed.   .   .   . 

London,  June  14th. 
Till  yesterday  we  had  no  news  out 
of  Spain  this  month  or  five  weeks.  .  .  . 
But  now  Sir  Francis  Cottington  and 
Greisley  are  come  together ;  but  we 
say  they  have  a  caveat  to  divulge  noth- 
ing. Yet  the  world  doth  guess  there  is 
some  difficult  point  that  doth  require 
Cottington' s  coming  to  the  oracle.  .  .  . 
It  should  seem  matters  are  not  alto- 
gether so  forward  as  we  expected. 

Rev.  Joseph  Mead  to  Sir  Martin 
Stuteville. 

Christ  College,  June  21,  1623. 

.  .  .  God  send  our  prince  home 
again :  for  the  forenamed  Mr.  Elliot 
told,  sub  sigillo,  some  suspicious  pas- 
sages, as  that  the  prince  darest  not 
farther  them,  by  intimation  afar  off,  to 
express  his  desire  or  will  to  be  gone, 
as  fearing  to  be  denied ;  but  passeth  all 
by  compliments  and  such  like. 

The  lord  marquis,  as  is  talked,  hath 
had  in  the  Spanish  court  some  check 
of  late,  for  forgetting  himself  so  far  as 
to  intimate  a  dislike  of  the  slowness  of 
their  despatch :  whereupon  Olivares 
was  sent  to  the  prince  to  tell  him,  that 
the  lord  marquis  must  consider  how 
great  a  prince  the  King  of  Spain  was 
when  he  came  to  speak  into  his  pres- 


ence. Mr.  Wren  hath  also  this  pas- 
sage :  "  There  is  no  such  matter  here  as 
you  talk  in  England,  that  the  marriage 
should  be  finished  ;  for  there  is  not  yet 
so  much  as  a  match  concluded." 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

London,  June  20th,  1623. 
.  .  .  The  prince  had  on  Saturday 
before  received  a  peremptory  answer, 
that  the  lady  might  not  be  married  till 
after  Easter  next.  It  was  therefore  in 
his  highness' s  choice  to  stay  there  till 
then,  and  so  take  her  away  with  him, 
or  return  home  again.  And  the  next 
day  after,  his  highness,  the  second 
time,  had  speech  with  her  since  the  first 
time,  on  their  Easter  or  our  Palm  Sun- 
day, which  is  strange  wooing.   .   .   . 

Rev.   Joseph    Mead    to    Sir    Martin 
Stuteville. 

Christ  College,  Oct.  11,  1623. 
I  shall  not  need  to  tell  you  the  prince 
is  come  and  at  Royston.  The  news 
came  to  our  vice-chancellor  on  Monday 
forenoon.  Our  bells  rung  all  that  day, 
and  the  town  made  bonfires  at  night. 
Tuesday,  the  bells  continued  ringing. 
Every  college  had  a  speech,  and  one 
dish  more  at  supper,  and  bonfires  and 
squibs  in  their  courts ;  the  townsmen 
still  continuing  to  warm  their  streets 
in  every  corner,  also,  with  bonfires, 
lest  they  should  not  be  merry  when 
we  were.  .  .  .  We  hear  nothing  of  the 
match  at  all,  but  yet  we  are  sure  yet 
the  infanta  is  not  come. 

Oct.  24,  1623. 
Our  fleet  should  have  wintered  at 
Portsmouth,  with  express  terms  to  have 
been  the  readier  at  the  spring,  to  have 
gone  to  fetch  the  lady  infanta.  .  .  . 
But  before  that  order  came,  the  fleet 
was  gone  from  thence,  and  is  now, 
two    days    ago,    come   to    Chatham,    I 


6o 


James  I, 


believe.  Not  yet  that  Spain  intends 
any  match,  or  ever  did,  nor,  I  hope,  do 
we  now.   .   .   . 

John     Chamberlain     to     Sir    Dudley 
Carle  ton. 

London,  Oct.  25th,  1623. 
.  .  .  Our  courtiers,  and  others,  that 
were  in  Spain,  begin  now  to  open 
their  mouths,  and  speak  liberally  of  the 
coarse  usage  and  entertainment,  where 
they  found  nothing  but  penury  and 
proud  beggary,  besides  all  other  dis- 
courtesy ;  insomuch,  that  even  the 
Romish  Catholics  complain  of  Gondo- 
mar,  who  was  their  idol  here,  that  he 
used  them  as  bad  as  the  rest.  And  this 
journey  hath  wrought  one  unexpected 
effect,  that  whereas  it  was  thought  the 
Spaniards  and  we  should  piece  and  grow 
together,  it  seems  we  are  generally  more 
disjointed  and  further  asunder  in  affec- 
tions than  ever.  Besides  the  good  it  hath 
done  in  religion,  by  laying  open  their 
gross  ignorance  and  superstition.   .   .   . 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

London,  Nov.  21,  1623. 
.  .  .  The  prince,  whilst  he  was  in 
Spain,  was  so  well  entertained  by  the 
king  and  his  confessor,  that  both  called 
him  heretic  to  his  face,  which  he  bravely 
disproved,  and  being  granted  to  see 
a  church  in  Madrid,  though  he  entered 
bareheaded,  yet,  because  he  would  not 
bow  down  to  the  host,  where  they  said 
Christ  was,  they  forced  him  again  out 


of  the  church,  and  if  he  had  made  the 
lesser  haste  back,  they  would  have 
thrust  him  out  by  head  and  shoulders. 
This  and  much  more  the  prince  told 
Dean  White  on  Sunday  night,  as  he 
since  told  me.   .   .   . 

John     Chamberlain    to     Sir    Dudley 
Car  let  on. 

London,  Feb.  22nd,  1623-4. 

The  king  went  to  the  parliament  on 
Thursday,  with  greater  show  and  pomp 
than  I  have  seen  to  my  remembrance. 
I  was  so  much  and  so  many  ways 
invited,  that  I  could  not  refuse  to  go ; 
and,  to  say  the  truth,  I  went  specially 
to  see  the  prince,  who  indeed  is  grown 
a  fine  gentleman,  and  beyond  all  expec- 
tation I  had  of  him  when  I  saw  him 
last,  which  was  not  these  seven  years ; 
..and,  indeed,  I  think  he  never  looked 
nor  became  himself  better  in  all  his  life. 
The  king  made  a  very  gracious  and 
plausible  speech,  confessed  he  had  been 
deluded  in  the  treaty  of  the  match  ;  but 
referring  it  now  wholly  to  their  con- 
sideration, whether  it  should  go  forward 
or  no.   .   .   . 

July  1,  1624. 

.  .  .  Somebody  is  come  out  of  Spain 
with  no  pleasing  news,  and,  they  say, 
brought  back  the  prince's  letter  to  the 

infanta,    unopened The   Mary 

Rose,  a  ship  of  the  king's,  is  making 
ready  for  Spain,  to  fetch  the  jewels 
re-delivered  to  our  ambassador. 


S^         OF    THK 

UNIVERSITT 


0 


CO^rf/ 


\<fO''f 


*/Oi 


■  SeMtt  /c 


Charles   I 


61 


GROUP   IX. 


CHARLES  I.  AND  HENRIETTA  MARIA  OF  FRANCE. 


i.  Letter  of  Lord  Kensington  to 
Prince  Charles.  (In  Harris,  Charles 
I.,  London,  1814,  p.  25.) 

Paris,  Feb.  26,  1624-5. 
.  .  .  Sir,  if  your  intentions  proceed 
this  way,  as  by  many  reasons  of  state 
and  wisdom,  (there  is  cause  now  rather 
to  press  it,  than  slacken  it)  you  will 
find  a  lady  of  as  much  loveliness  and 
sweetness  to  deserve  your  affection,  as 
any  creature  under  heaven  can  do. 
And,  Sir,  by  all  her  fashions  since  my 
being  here,  and  by  what  I  hear  from 
the  ladies,  it  is  most  visible  to  me,  her 
infinite  value,  and  respect  unto  you. 
Sir,  I  say  not  this  to  betray  your  belief, 
but  from  a  true  observation,  and  knowl- 
edge of  this  to  be  so  :  I  tell  you  this, 
and  must  somewhat  more,  in  way  of 
admiration  of  the  person  of  madam ; 
for  the  impressions  I  had  of  her  were 
but  oi'dinary,  but  the  amazement  ex- 
traordinary, to  find  her,  as  I  protest 
before  God  I  did,  the  sweetest  creature 
in  France.  Her  growth  is  very  little 
short  of  her  age  (15),  and  her  wisdom 
infinitely  beyond  it.  I  heard  her  dis- 
course with  her  mother,  and  the  ladies 
about  her  with  extraordinary  discre- 
tion and  quickness.  She  dances  (the 
which  I  am  a  witness  of)  as  well  as 
ever  I  saw  any  creature.  They  say  she 
sings  most  sweetly ;  I  am  sure  she 
looks  so. 

2.  Extracts  from  Private  Letters. 
(Court  and  Times  of  Charles  L,  Vol. 

I-) 
John   Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley 
Carleton. 
London,  April  23rd,  1625. 
.   .   .  The  French  match  is  said  to  be 
in  great  forwardness,  and  to  be  cele- 
brated to-morrow.   .   .   . 


May  6th. 

.  .  .  The  Jiancailles  were  performed 
on  Thursday,  being  their  ascension,  and 
the  marriage  on  Sunday  last,  our  May- 
day. We  had  notice  of  the  former  on 
Saturday  night,  and  on  Wednesday 
evening  we  had  bells  and  bonfires  in 
abundance  upon  news  of  the  latter. 
The  bride  is  to  set  forward  on  Thurs- 
day next.  .  .  .  Here  is  great  prepa- 
ration for  shows  and  pageants,  yet  it  is 
thought  the  coronation  will  not  be  till 
October,  specially  if  the  sickness  in- 
crease.  .   .   . 

May  28th. 

...  I  was  minded  to  send  a  list  of 
the  Ladies  that  are  appointed  to  meet 
the  queen  at  Dover  :  but  it  varies  and 
alters  so  often,  that  it  were  to  no  pur- 
pose. Their  number  is  about  four  or 
five  and  twenty:  all  their  coaches  fur- 
nished with  six  horses,  which  comes 
altogether  now  in  fashion  ;  a  vanity  of 
excessive  charge,  and  of  little  use. 

Dr.  Meddus  to  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 
London,  June  17th,  1625. 
The  last  night,  at  five  o'clock,  (there 
being  a  very  great  shower)  the  king 
and  queen,  in  the  royal  barge,  with 
many  other  barges  of  honour,  and 
thousands  of  boats,  passed  through 
London  bridge  to  Whitehall ;  infinite 
numbers,  besides  those  in  wherries, 
standing  in  houses,  ships,  lighters, 
western  barges ;  and  on  each  side  of 
the  shore  fifty  good  ships  discharging 
their  ordnance  as  their  majesties  passed 
along  by,  as,  last  of  all,  the  Tower 
did — such  a  peel  as,  I  believe,  she 
never  before  heard  the  like.  The  king 
and  queen  were  both  in  green  suits. 
The  barge  windows,  notwithstanding 
the  vehement  shower,  were  open,  and 


62 


Charles  I. 


all  the  people  shouting  amain.  She 
hath  already  given  some  good  signs  of 
hope  that  she  may  ere  long,  by  God's 
blessing,  become  ours  in  religion. 

She  arrived  at  Dover  on  Sunday, 
about  eight  in  the  evening,  lay  there  in 
the  castle  that  night,  whither  the  king 
rode  on  Monday  morning  from  Canter- 
bury, came  thither  after  ten  of  the 
clock,  and  she  being  at  meat,  he  stayed 
in  the  presence  till  she  had  done,  which 
she  advertised  of,  made  short  work, 
rose,  went  unto  him,  kneeled  down  at 
his  feet,  took  and  kissed  his  hand. 
The  king  took  her  up  in  his  arms, 
kissed  her,  and  talking  with  her,  cast 
down  his  eyes  towards  her  feet  (she, 
seeming  higher  than  report  was,  reach- 
ing to  his  shoulder),  which  she  soon 
perceiving,  discovered  and  showed  him 
her  shoes,  saying  to  this  effect:  "Sir, 
I  stand  upon  mine  own  feet ;  I  have  no 
helps  by  art.  Thus  high  I  am  and  am 
neither  higher  nor  lower."  She  is 
nimble  and  quick,  black  eyed,  brown 
haired,  and,  in  a  word,  a  brave  lady, 
though  perhaps  a  little  touched  with 
the  green  sickness.   .   .   . 

The  bells  rung  till  midnight,  and  all 
the  streets  were  full  of  bonfires,  and  in 
this  one  street  were  above  thirty. 

June  24th. 

Last  Sunday,  the  queen  and  hers 
.  .  .  were  at  high  mass.  .  .  .  The 
chapel  goes  on  again.  She  had  twenty- 
nine  priests,  fourteen  of  them  Thea- 
tines,  and  fifteen  seculars,  besides  a 
bishop,  a  young  man  under  thirty  years 
old. 

Extract  from  another  letter,  same 
date. 

The  priests  have  been  very  importu- 
nate to  have  the  chapel  finished  at  St. 
James's,  but  they  find  the  king  very 
slow  in  doing  that.  His  answer  (some 
told  me)  was,  that  if  the  queen's  closet 


where  they  now  say  mass,  were  not 
large  enough,  let  them  have  it  in  the 
great  chamber  ;  and  if  the  great  cham- 
ber was  not  wide  enough,  they  might 
use  the  garden ;  and  if  the  garden 
would  not  serve  their  turn,  then  was 
the  park  the  fittest  place.  So,  seeing 
themselves  slighted,  they  grow  weary 
of  England,  and  wish  themselves  at 
home  again.  Besides,  unto  the  king's 
devotions  they  cannot  add,  nor  with  all 
their  stratagems  can  bring  him  in  the 
least  love  with  their  fopperies.   .   .   . 

John  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley 
Car  let  on. 

June  25th. 

.  .  .  The  queen  hath  brought,  they 
say,  such  a  poor,  pitiful  sort  of  women, 
that  there  is  not  one  worth  the  looking 
after,  saving  herself  and  the  Duchess 
of  Chevreuse,  who  though  she  be  fair, 
yet  paints  foully. 

They  (the  parliament)  begin  to  mut- 
ter about  matters  of  religion,  that  the 
king  promised  them,  when  he  was 
prince,  that  he  would  never  contract  a 
marriage  with  conditions  derogatory  to 
that  we  profess.  .  .  .  Some  spare  not 
to  say  that  all  goes  backward  since  this 
connivance  in  religion  came  in,  both  in 
our  wealth,  honour,  valour,  and  reputa- 
tion, and  that  it  is  visibly  seen  God 
blesses  nothing  that  we  take  in  hand. 

Extract  from  the  Autobiography  of 

Sir  Simonds  d'  Ewes.    (London, 

1845.      Vol.  I.  p.  272.) 

1625. 
On  Thursday,  the  30th  and  last  day 
of  this  instant  June,  I  went  to  White- 
hall purposely  to  see  the  Queen  ;  which 
I  did  fully  all  the  time  she  sat  at  din- 
ner, and  perceived  her  to  be  a  most  ab- 
solute delicate  lady,  after  I  had  exactly 
surveyed  all  the  features  of  her  face, 
much  enlivened  by  her  radiant  and 
sparkling  black  eye.     Besides,  her  de- 


QjOffe***  (g>  J.ickuT^  C)   JT<  ■•   )£fcs 


Charles  I 


63 


portment  amongst  her  women  was  so 
sweet  and  humble,  and  her  speech  and 
looks  to  her  other  servants  so  mild  and 
gracious,  as  I  could  not  abstain  from 
divers  deep-fetched  sighs  to  consider 
that  she  wanted  the  knowledge  of  the 
true  religion. 

Rev.   Joseph    Mead   to     Sir    Martin 
Stuteville. 

July  2nd,  1625. 
.  .  .  The  friars  so  frequent  the 
queen's  private  chamber  that  the  king 
is  much  offended,  and  so  told  them, 
having  (as  it  is  said)  granted  them 
more  than  sufficient  liberty  in  public. 
This  Mr.  Mordaunt  writes  to  me,  and, 
besides,  that  which  follows: — "The 
queen,"  saith  he,  "howsoever  little  of 
stature,  is  of  spirit  and  vigour,  and 
seems  of  a  more  than  ordinary  resolu- 
tion. With  one  frown,  divers  of  us 
being  at  Whitehall  to  see  her  being  at 
dinner,  and  the  room  somewhat  over- 
heated with  the  fire  and  company,  she 
drove  us  all  out  of  the  chamber.  I 
suppose  none  but  a  queen  could  have 
cast  such  a  scowl."    .   .   . 

Oct.  3rd,  1625. 

...  I  found  a  letter  written  to  a 
friend  of  mine  .  .  .  from  a  brother  of 
his,  then  at  the  court,  at  Tichfield, 
whose  contents  are  as  follows  : 

"Tichfield,  Hampshire,  Sept.  24th. 
— On  Sunday,  the  18th  of  this  instant, 
there  preached  at  the  queen's  court,  be- 
fore the  officers  Protestants,  the  minis- 
ter of  that  town.  In  the  middle  of  his 
sermon,  the  queen,  with  her  lord  cham- 
berlain and  ladies  of  honour,  came 
through  that  congregation,  and  made 
such  a  noise,  as  was  admired,  inso- 
much that  the  preacher  was  at  a  stand, 
and  demanded  whether  he  might  pro- 
ceed or  no,  but  they  still  went  on ;  and 
they  passed  through  the  hall  where  the 
sermon  was  preaching,  and  went  to  the 


court  gates,  and  before  the  sermon  was 
ended  returned  the  same  way  back 
again,  with  a  greater  noise  and  disorder 
than  before.  It  is  said,  the  queen  was 
set  on  to  do  it  by  her  bishop,  confessor 
and  priests.  Upon  the  Tuesday  fol- 
lowing, the  minister,  walking  in  his 
garden,  was  shot  at  with  hail-shot, 
which  did  miss  him  miraculously,  it 
alighting  about  him."    .   .   . 

Oct.  8th. 
.  .  .  Besides  that  pretty  business  of 
the  preacher  at  Tichfield,  Dr.  Weemes 
tells  me  another  like  it,  which  happened 
while  he  was  at  court  there,  some  weeks 
since,  viz.  : — That  the  king  and  queen 
dining  together  in  the  presence,  Mr. 
Hacket  being  then  to  say  grace,  the 
confessor  would  have  prevented  him, 
but  that  Hacket  shoved  him  away. 
Whereupon  the  confessor  went  to  the 
queen's  side,  and  was  about  to  say 
grace  again,  but  that  the  king,  pulling 
the  dishes  unto  him,  and  the  carvers 
falling  to  their  business,  hindered. 
When  the  dinner  was  done,  he  thought, 
standing  by  the  queen,  to  have  been  be- 
fore Mr.  Hacket ;  but  Mr.  Hacket  again 
got  the  start.  The  confessor,  never- 
theless, begins  his  grace  as  loud  as  Mr. 
Hacket,  with  such  a  confusion,  that  the 
king,  in  a  great  passion,  instantly  rose 
from  the  table,  and,  taking  the  queen  by 
the  hand,  retired  into  the  bedchamber. 
Was  not  this  a  priestly  discretion  ? 

Dec.  17th,  1625. 
.  .  .  The  king  will  keep  his  Christ- 
mas, they  say,  at  Whitehall,  and  re- 
moves on  Thursday.  On  Tuesday  last, 
I  am  told,  the  queen  was  in  the  Ex- 
change, and  went  nimbly  from  shop 
to  shop,  and  bought  some  knacks,  till, 
being  discovered,  she  made  away  with 
all  the  haste  she  could,  and  went  that 
night  to  Hampton  Court.  This  was 
a  French  trick,  like  to  washing  in  the 
Thames  last  summer. 


64 


Charles  I 


Jan.  i 2th,  1625-6. 

The  queen's  servants,  perceiving  they 

were  like  to  be  discarded  if  they  took 

not  the  oath  of  allegiance,  have  now, 

as  I  hear,  all  taken  it  saving  the  priests. 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

Jan.  13th. 
.  .  .  The  same  afternoon  the  queen 
was  at  the  Tower,  in  her  rich  coach, 
with  seven  others — her  confessor's  coach 
being  foremost,  and  hers  following  next 
after — and  returned  by  torchlight.   .   .   . 

Rev.   Joseph    Mead    to    Sir    Martin 

Stuteville. 

Christ  College,  Feb.  4th,  1625-6. 

The  coronation  of  the  king  was  on 

Thursday  (as  passengers  from  London 

yesterday   tell    us),  but   private.     The 

king  went  to  Westminster  Church  by 

water;    the   queen  was   not   crowned, 

but  stood  at  a  window  in  the  meantime, 

looking  on,  and  her  ladies  frisking  and 

dancing  in  the  room. 

March  4th. 

.  .  .  On  Tuesday,  February  21st, 
the  queen  and  her  ladies  acted  a  pas- 
toral before  the  king,  wherein  herself 
had  the  greatest  part,  and  repeated,  it 
is  said,  600  French  verses  by  heart. 

Mr.  Pory  to  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 
July  1st,  1626. 
.  .  .  On  Monday,  about  three  in  the 
afternoon,  the  king,  passing  into  the 
queen's  side  [of  the  palace],  and  find- 
ing some  Frenchmen,  her  servants,  un- 
reverently  dancing  and  curvetting  in  her 
presence,  took  her  by  the  hand,  and 
led  her  into  his  lodgings,  locking  the 
door  after  him,  and  shutting  out  all, 
saving  only  the  Queen  ;  presently  upon 
this  my  Lord  Conway  called  forth  the 
French  bishop  and  others  of  that  clergy 
into  St.  James's  Park,  where  he  told 
them,  the  king's  pleasure  was,  all  her 
majesty's  servants  of  that  nation,  men 


and  women,  young  and  old,  should 
depart  the  kingdom,  together  with  the 
reasons  that  enforced  his  majesty  so  to 
do.  The  bishop  said  much  upon  it 
that,  being  in  the  nature  of  an  ambas- 
sador, he  could  not  go,  unless  the  king 
his  master  should  command  him.  But 
he  was  told  again,  that  the  king  his 
master  had  nothing  to  do  here  in  Eng- 
land ;  and  that,  if  he  were  unwilling 
to  go,  England  would  send  force  enough 
to  convey  him  away  hence. 

The  bishop  had  as  much  reason  to 
dance  loth  to  depart,  as  the  king  and 
all  his  well-affected  subjects  had  to  send 
him  packing ;  for  he  had  as  much 
power  of  conferring  orders,  and  dis- 
pensing with  sacraments,  oaths,  etc., 
as  the  pope  could  give ;  and  so,  by 
consequence,  was  a  most  dangerous 
instrument  to  work  the  pope's  ends 
here. 

The  king's  message  being  thus  de- 
livered by  my  Lord  Conway,  his  lord- 
ship, accompanied  with  Mr.  Treasurer, 
and  Mr.  Comptroller,  went  into  the 
Queen's  lodgings,  and  told  all  the 
French  likewise,  that  were  there,  that 
his  majesty's  pleasure  was,  they  should 
all  depart  thence  to  Somerset  House, 
and  remain  there  till  they  knew  fur- 
ther his  majesty's  pleasure.  The 
women  howled  and  lamented,  as  if 
they  had  been  going  to  execution,  but 
all  in  vain ;  for  the  yeomen  of  the 
guard,  by  that  lord's  appointment, 
thrust  them  and  all  their  country  folks 
out  of  the  queen's  lodgings,  and  locked 
the  doors  after  them. 

It  is  said  also,  the  queen,  when  she 
understood  the  design,  grew  very  im- 
patient, and  broke  the  glass  windows 
with  her  fist.  But  since,  I  hear,  her 
rage  is  appeased,  and  the  king  and  she, 
since  they  went  together  to  Nonsuch, 
have  been  very  jocund  together. 

The  same  day,  the  French  being  all 
at  Somerset  House,  the  king,  as  I  have 


Charles   I, 


65 


heard  some  affirm,  went  thither,  and 
made  a  speech  to  them  to  this  purpose  : 
that  he  hoped  the  good  king,  his 
brother  of  France,  would  not  take 
amiss  what  he  had  done ;  for  the 
French  he  said,  (particular  persons  he 
would  tax)  had  occasioned  many  jars 
and  discontents  between  the  king  and 
him  ;  such,  indeed,  as  longer  were  in- 
sufferable. He  prayed  them,  therefore, 
to  pardon  him,  if  he  sought  his  own 
ease  and  safety;  and  said,  moreover, 
that  he  had  given  order  to  his  treasurer 
to  reward  every  one  of  them  for  their 
year's  service.  So  the  next  morning, 
being  Tuesday,  there  was  distributed 
among  them  £11,000,  in  money,  and 
about  £20,000  worth  of  jewels 

Of  this  magnanimous  act  I  think  the 
king  hath  such  satisfactory  reasons,  as 
will  stop  the  mouths  of  all  gain-sayers. 
One  might  be  the  extravagant  power 
of  this  bishop,  who,  when  he  was  last 
in  Fiance,  suing  to  be  a  secretary  of 
state,  fell  short  of  that,  and  so  took  in- 
structions from  the  pope's  nuncio; 
which  in  case  he  could  bring  to  effect, 
he  was  promised  a  cardinal's  hat,  which 
now  lies  in  the  dust.  The  rest  of  the 
clergy  were  the  most  superstitious,  tur- 
bulent, and  Jesuitical  priests  that  could 
be  found  in  all  France,  very  fit  to  make 
firebrands  of  sedition  in  a  foreign  state ; 
so  that  his  majesty,  as  long  as  he  gave 
them  entertainment,  did  but  nourish  so 
many  vipers  in  his  bosom.  Nay,  their 
insolences  towards  the  queen  were  not 
to  be  endured  ;  for,  besides  that  these 
knaves  would,  by  way  of  confession, 
interrogate  her  how  often  the  king  had 
kissed  her;  and  no  longer  ago  than 
upon  St.  James' s-day  last  those  hypo- 
critical dogs  made  the  poor  queen  walk 
afoot  (some  add  barefoot)  from  her 
house  at  St.  James's  to  the  gallows  at 
Tyburn,  thereby  to  honor  the  saint  of 
the  day  in  visiting  that  holy  place, 
where  so  many  martyrs,  forsooth,  had 


shed  their  blood  in  defence  of  the  Cath- 
olic cause.  Had  they  not  also  made 
her  to  dabble  in  the  dirt,  in  a  foul 
morning,  from  Somerset  House  to  St. 
James's,  her  luciferian  confessor  riding 
along  by  her  in  his  coach.*  Yea,  they 
have  made  her  to  go  barefoot,  to  spin, 
to  cut  her  meat  out  of  dishes,  to  wait 
at  the  table,  to  serve  her  servants,  with 
many  other  ridiculous  and  absurd  pen- 
ances ;  and  if  they  dare  thus  insult  over 
the  daughter,  sister,  and  wife  of  so  great 
kings,  what  slavery  would  they  not 
make  us,  the  people  to  undergo?  Be- 
sides all  this,  letters  of  some  of  the 
French  about  her  majesty  are  said  to 
have  been  intercepted,  by  which  it  hath 
appeared  they  have  not  only  practised 
with  the  pope  on  one  side  and  the 
English  papists  on  the  other  side,  but 
have  had  intelligence  also  with  the 
Spaniard. 

It  was  intended  they  should  have 
presently  departed,  but  they  are  not  yet 
gone,  and  Monday  next  is  said  to  be 
peremptory  day  of  their  departure. 
Meanwhile,  they  took  possession  of  all 
the  queen's  apparel  and  linen  which 
they  found  at  Somerset  House,  as  being 
their  vales  (whether  plate  or  jewels 
also  I  can  not  certainly  tell)  ;  but  the 
queen  having  left  her  but  one  gown 
and  two  smocks  to  her  back,  these 
French  booters  were  entreated  by  some 
of  the  lords  of  the  council  to  send  her 
majesty  some  apparel ;  so  they  sent  her 
only  one  old  satin  gown,  keeping  all 
the  residue  to  themselves.     Her  master 


♦That  Charles's  provocation  was  pretty  strong  is 
evidenced  by  the  tone  of  a  letter  to  Buckingham  :  "  I 
command  you  to  send  all  the  French  away  to-morrow 
out  of  town,  if  you  can,  by  fair  means,  but  stick,  not 
long  in  disputing;  otherwise  force  them  away,  driving 
them  away  like  so  many  wild  beasts,  until  you  have 
shipped  them,  and  so  the  devil  go  with  them.  Let  me 
hear  of  no  answer  Dut  of  the  performance  of  my  com- 
mand.    So  I  rest  your  faithful,  constant,  loving  friend, 

C.  R." 

There  were,  according  to  a  letter  from  Mr.  Pory  to 
Rev  Joseph  Mead  (Aug.  II,  1626),  no  less  than  440  of 
these  amiable  attendants. — Ed. 


66 


Charles    I. 


of  the  horse,  likewise,  the  Count  de 
Lepieres,  laid  claim  to  all  the  horses 
and  furniture  tinder  his  charge;  but  in 
vain.  It  is  hoped,  after  they  are  gone, 
the  queen  will  by  degrees  find  the 
sweetness  of  liberty,  in  being  exempted 
from  those  beggarly  rudiments  of 
popish  penance.   .   .   . 

To  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

London,  July  21,  1626. 

We  hear  of  a  falling  out  between  the 
king  and  queen  for  her  going  in  a  kind 
of  devotion  to  visit  that  holy  place  of 
Tyburn.  This  can  those  damned  priests 
about  her  make  her  do. 

Aug.  11. 

Since  my  last,  you  shall  understand, 
that  Monday  last  were  attending  at 
Somerset  House  thirty  coaches,  and 
fifty  carts,  to  have,  after  dinner,  carried 
the  French  and  their  goods  away.  .  .  . 
They  would  not  depart,  till  they  were 
disengaged  of  moneys  they  stood  en- 
gaged for,  for  the  queen  :  as  one  bill  of 
£4,000  for  necessaries  of  the  queen  ;  a 
second  was  the  apothecary's  bill  of 
£800,  for  drugs;  and  the  third  of  the 
bishop's  .  .  .  of  £1,500,  for  his  (un)- 
holy  water.   .   .   . 

Aug.  17th. 

.  .  .  They  were  very  sullen  at  their 
first  setting  out  from  hence ;  but  their 
kind  entertainment  by  the  way  made 
them  more  tame  by  that  time  they  came 
to  Dover.  A  fellow  there  threw  a 
stone   at  Madame  St.  George,  as  she 


was  newly  entered  the  boat ;  where- 
upon an  English  knight  that  sat  next 
her  stepped  on  shore  and  gave  the  fel- 
low a  wound,  which  cost  him  his  life. 
The  bishop  being  come  to  Rochester, 
met  there  his  commission  from  the 
French  king  to  ordain  him  ambassador, 
notice  whereof  he  presently  sent  his  maj- 
esty; but  the  king  utterly  rejected  him, 
saying  he  had  done  so  many  wrongs,  as 
he  should  never  see  his  face  more. 


Description  of  Queen  Henrietta  Maria 
in  1642.  (From  Memoirs  of  Sophia 
of  the  Palatinate.  Translated  by  For- 
rester.) 

The  exquisite  portraits  of  Van  Dyck 
had  given  me  [The  future  Electress 
was  a  little  girl  of  nine  at  this  time] 
such  an  exalted  idea  of  all  the  English 
ladies  that  I  was  surprised  to  find  the 
queen,  whom  I  had  thought  so  beauti- 
ful on  canvas,  to  be  a  little  woman, 
with  long,  scraggly  arms,  shoulders 
uneven  and  teeth  like  fortifications  pro- 
jecting from  her  mouth.  All  the  same, 
after  looking  at  her  well,  I  found  her 
eyes  very  lovely,  her  nose  well-shaped 
and  her  complexion  admirable.  She 
did  me  the  honor  of  saying  that  she 
thought  I  looked  a  little  like  her  daugh- 
ter, which  pleased  me  so  much  that 
after  that  I  really  did  find  her  beautiful. 
I  overheard  the  English  milords  say 
that  when  1  grew  up  I  would  eclipse 
all  my  sisters  and  this  gave  me  an  affec- 
tion for  the  whole  nation,  so  pleasant 
it  is  to  be  admired  when  one  is  young. 


Charles    L 


67 


GROUP   X. 


PARLIAMENTARY    GRIEVANCES    AGAINST    CHARLES    I. 


I .  Extracts  from  the  Autobiography 
of  Sir  Simonds  d'Ewes  (London, 
1845.) 

1625. 

.  .  .  The  present  parliament,  which 
had  been  adjourned  or  prorogued  on 
July  the  nth,  at  London,  to  begin 
again  at  Oxford  on  August  the  1st, 
was  now  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
dissolved,  to  the  great  grief  of  all  good 
subjects  that  loved  true  religion,  their 
king,  and  the  Commonwealth.  For 
this,  being  the  first  Parliament  of  our 
royal  Charles,  should  have  been  an 
happy  occasion  and  means  to  have 
united  and  settled  the  affections  of 
Prince  and  people,  in  a  firm  concord 
and  correspondence.  The  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  a  most  unfortunate  man, 
being  now  questioned  for  sundry  par- 
ticulars, would  rather  hazard  the  final 
overthrow  of  the  public,  than  endeavour 
to  purge  himself  and  justify  his  actions 
by  a  speedy  and  humble  defence.  And 
a  happy  moderation  doubtless  it  had 
been  in  the  House  of  Commons,  if  at 
that  meeting  they  had  winked  at  the 
Duke's  errors  and  fallen  upon  the  con- 
sideration of  many  particulars  in  Church 
and  Common  wealth,  which  more  needed 
their  help  and  assistance.  But  what 
the  Divine  Providence  hath  decreed 
must  come  to  pass. 


2.  Extracts  from  Whitelocke's  Me- 
morials. (Oxford,  1853.  Vol.  I.) 
.  [Whitelocke  was  a  member  of  Parlia- 
ment.] 

1626. 

The  king  finding  the  discontents  of 
his  subjects  increased,  thought  fit  to 
call  another  parliament.   .   .   . 

The  commons  began  to  fall  upon  the 
public   grievances ;    the  miscarriage  of 


the  late  voyage  to  Cadiz  ;  the  misem- 
ployment  of  the  king' s  revenue  ;  evil 
counsels ;  favouring  of  papists ;  the 
loans,  taxes,  and  many  other,  which 
they  referred  to  committees. 

The  privy  council  required  the  bishop 
of  Durham  to  apprehend  such  of  his 
majesty's  subjects  as  should  be  pres- 
ent at  mass,  and  to  commit  them  to 
prison.   .   .   . 

The  king  by  message  and  the  lords 
press  the  commons  for  supplies.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Clement  Coke,  in  his  speech  in 
the  house  of  commons  concerning  griev- 
ances, said,  that  it  were  better  to  die  by 
an  enemy  than  to  suffer  at  home.   .   .   . 

The  king  sent  a  smart  letter  to  the 
speaker,  pressing  for  present  supplies ; 
and  promising  redress  of  grievances 
presented  in  a  dutiful  and  mannerly 
way.   .   .   . 

To  this  the  commons  returned  a  gen- 
eral answer,  promising  a  supply :  the 
king  replied,  as  to  the  clause  of  pre- 
senting grievances,  that  they  should 
apply  themselves  to  redress  grievances, 
not  to  enquire  after  them.  And  said, 
"  I  will  not  allow  any  of  my  servants 
to  be  questioned  among  you,  much  less 
such  as  are  of  eminent  place,  and  near 
unto  me.  I  see  you  especially  aim  at 
the  duke  [Buckingham]  :  I  wonder 
who  hath  so  altered  your  affections 
towards  him." 

Then  he  .  .  .  concludes,  "  I  would 
you  would  hasten  for  my  supply,  or 
else  it  will  be  worse  for  yourselves  ;  for 
if  any  evil  happen,  I  think  I  shall  be 
the  last  that  shall  feel  it.   .   .   . 

Sir  John  Elliot  made  a  bold  and 
sharp  speech  against  the  duke,  and 
present  grievances  :  yet  in  the  midst  of 
those  agitations,  the  commons  remem- 
bered the  king's  necessities,  and  voted 


68 


Charles    I 


to  grant  three  subsidies  and  three 
fifteens.   .   .   . 

The  king  .  .  .  mentioned  Mr.  Coke, 
and  said,  it  was  better  for  a  king  to  be 
invaded  and  almost  destroyed,  by  a 
foreign  power,  than  to  be  despised  by 
his  own  subjects.  And  bids  them  re- 
member, that  the  calling,  sitting  and 
dissolving  of  parliaments  was  in  his 
power.   .   .   . 

At  a  conference  with  the  lords,  the 
commons  sent  up  an  impeachment 
against  the  duke  of  Bucks  [Bucking- 
ham], managed  by  eight  of  their  mem- 
bers. Sir  Dudley  Digges  made  an 
eloquent  introduction,  comparing  Eng- 
land to  the  world,  the  commons  to  the 
earth  and  sea,  the  king  to  the  sun,  the 
lords  to  the  planets,  the  clergy  to 
the  fire,  the  judges  and  magistrates  to 
the  air,  the  duke  of  Bucks  to  a  blazing 
star. 

The  articles  were  I.  The  sale  of  offices 
and  multiplicity  of  great  offices  in  the 
duke.  II.  His  buying  the  office  of  ad- 
miral. .  .  .  IV.  The  neglect  of  the 
duty  and  trust  of  his  office  of  admiral, 
whereby  pirates  infested  our  coasts  and 
trade  decayed.  .  .  .  These  were  ag- 
gravated by  Mr.  Pym.  XII.  His  em- 
bezzling the  king' s .  money,  and  pro- 
curing grants  to  himself  of  crown  lands 
of  a  great  value.  Upon  this  Mr.  Sher- 
land  enlarged,  and  computed  the  sum 
of  his  gifts  to  £284,39^.  XIII.  The 
plaster  and  potions  which  the  duke 
caused  to  be  given  to  king  James  in 
his  sickness,  a  transcendent  presump- 
tion of  a  dangerous  consequence. 

This  was  aggravated  by  Mr.  Wands- 
ford,  and  sir  John  Elliot  made  the  Epi- 
logue to  the  impeachment. 

Sir  Dudley  Diggs  and  sir  John  Elliot 
were  committed  to  the  tower ;  and  the 
king  came  to  the  lords'  house,  and  told 
them  of  it :  and  that  he  could  clear 
Bucks  of  every  one  of  the  matters 
whereof  he  was  accused.   .   .   . 


The  commons,  upon  commitment  of 
their  members,  caused  the  door  of  the 
house  to  be  shut,  and  would  not  pro- 
ceed in  any  other  business  till  they  were 
righted  in  their  liberties. 

Whereupon  sir  Dudley  Carleton  in  a 
speech  told  them,  that  in  other  coun- 
tries, particularly  in  France,  they  had 
formerly  parliaments,  as  we  have,  but 
when  their  parliamentary  liberty  was 
turned  into  tumultuary  license,  and 
their  kings  found  how  those  councils 
endeavored  to  curb  them,  they  took 
away  and  abolished  those  parliaments ; 
and  now  the  common  people,  wanting 
good  food,  looked  more  like  ghosts 
than  men,  and  went  in  canvass  clothes 
and  wooden  shoes.  .  .  .  His  [Sir  Dud- 
ley Carleton' s]  friends  had  much  ado 
to  keep  him  from  being  brought  upon 
his  knees  to  the  bar  for  his  speech. 
.   .   .  But  he  went  on   .   .   . 

At  this  time  Cambridge  chose  the 
duke  of  Bucks  for  their  chancellor,  to 
please  the  king,  and  shew  their  dislike 
to  the  commons.    .   . 

They  [the  commons]  agreed  upon  a 
remonstrance  against  the  duke,  and  con- 
cerning the  king's  taking  of  tunnage 
and  poundage,  though  not  granted  to 
him  by  parliament.  .  .  .  The  parlia- 
ment was  dissolved  June  15th,  1626, 
unhappily. 

Thus  this  great,  warm,  and  ruffling 
parliament  had  its  period. 

Letter  of  Sir  Simonds  d' Ewes  to  Sir 
Martin  Stuteville. 

May  1 1. 

.  .  .  The  king  was,  this  morning, 
in  the  upper  house,  and  there  com- 
plained of  Sir  John  Elliot,  for  com- 
paring the  duke  to  Sejanus,  in  which, 
he  said,  implicitly  he  must  intend  him- 
self Tiberius.  Shortly  after  ...  he 
sent  both  him  and  Sir  Dudley  Digges. 
to  the  Tower. 


Charles  I. 


69 


3.  Extract  from  Sir  Simonds  d'  Ewes' 
Autobiography. 

1626. 

Infinite  almost  was  the  sadness  of 
each  man's  heart,  and  the  dejection  of 
his  countenance  that  truly  loved  the 
Church  or  Commonwealth,  at  the  sud- 
den and  abortive  breach  of  the  present 
Parliament  on  Thursday,  the  15th  day 
of  this  instant  June.  For  the  House  of 
Commons  having  transmitted  up  George 
Duke  of  Buckingham  to  the  Lords,  as 
guilty  of  many  great  and  enormous 
crimes,  and  especially  because  he  had 
given  a  potion  and  ministered  plasters 
to  King  James,  in  his  last  sickness,  of 
which  it  was  doubted  he  died ;  and  the 
Upper  House  thereupon,  and  for  some 
other  offences,  intending  to  question  the 
said  Duke  for  his  life ;  all  those  pro- 
ceedings received  a  sudden  check  and 
stop  by  this  heavy  and  fatal  dissolution. 
.  .  .  All  men  that  truly  loved  God, 
their  king  and  country,  had  just  cause 
to  lament  so  dismal  and  sad  an  accident. 


4.  Extracts  from  Private  Letters. 
(In  Court  and  Times  of  Charles  I.) 

Rev.     Jos.     Mead     to     Sir     Martin 

Sttiteville. 
Christ  College,  July  22nd,  1626. 
.  .  .  On  Monday  the  judges  sat  in 
Westminster  Hall  to  persuade  the  people 
to  pay  subsidies  ;  but  there  arose  a  great 
tumultuous  shout  amongst  them.  "  A 
parliament !  a  parliament !  or  else  no 
subsidies."    .   .   . 

July  24th. 

.  .  .  This  ill  success  in  those  and 
some  other  places  make  a  speech  in 
the  mouths  of  some,  as  if  his  majesty 
would  supply  himself  by  the  sale  of 
lands  in  capite.  .  .  .  They  of  Scotland 
cry  out  amain  of  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham, saying  they  will  know  how  King 
James,  the  Duke  of  Lennox,  the  Mar- 
quis of  Hamilton  came  to  their  end. 


Mr.  Pory  to  Rev.  Jos.  Mead. 
Aug.  17th,  1626. 
.   .   .  There   is    much    talk   of    both 
raising    silver  and  gold  coin  two  shil- 
lings in  the  pound,  that  the  king  may 
make  gain  thereof.    .    .   . 

to  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

August  25th,  1626. 
Here  hath  been  much  ado  about  our 
new  coinage  of  silver  and  gold,  for 
which  the  king  is  to  have  in  a  pound 
weight  of  gold  52  s.,  whereas  it  was 
before  but  15s.;  and  3  s.  6  d.  for  a 
pound  weight  of  silver,  which  was 
before  but  2  s.  6  d.  The  Lords  have 
sitten  many  times  about  it,  and  sent  for 
some  merchants  for  their  opinions  of 
it ;  who,  I  know,  are  of  opinion  it  is 
a  most  dangerous  project  for  the  king 
and  kingdom ;  for  that  although  at 
first  the  king  may,  perhaps,  get  much 
by  the  coinage,  yet  it  will  overthrow 
trade  by  the  altering  of  the  exchange, 
much  impoverish  king  and  all  men  in 
their  revenues,  improve  Spain's  bullion, 
enhance  the  prices  of  all  things,  and 
for  the  profit  occasion  foreign  countries 
to  counterfeit  truly  our  coin,  and  there- 
by deprive  the  king  of  his  hope  by 
coinage,  and  therefore  is  thought  will 
not  hold. 

to  the  Rev.  Jos.  Mead. 

London,  Oct.  6th,  1626. 
Though  the  parishes  of  St.  Margaret's 
and  St.  Martin's  in  Westminster  have 
yielded  to  lend  the  king,  according  to 
the  date  demanded  of  five  subsidies ; 
yet  St.  Clement's  parish,  the  Strand, 
the  Duchy,  with  the  Savoy,  have 
caused  a  riot,  the  most  of  them  denying 
to  lend,  and  stand  ready  for  a  press 
groat  rather  than  yield  a  jot.  Amongst 
them,  the  Prophet  Ball,  the  tailor,  is 
the  chief  man,  who,  for  his  boldness 
in  advising  the  Lords  to  more  lawful 
councils,    is    fast    in    the    messenger's 


7o 


Charles  I. 


hands.  He  quoted  Scripture  to  them 
mightily.  Of  these  aforementioned 
were  those,  who  at  the  first,  when  the 
subsidies  were  demanded,  cried  out  for 
a  parliament. 

Unsigned  Letter  from  London. 
Feb.  2nd,  1626-7. 

This  week  are  ten  knights  and  gentle- 
men of  quality,  of  Northamptonshire, 
committed  to  several  prisons  for  refus- 
ing to  subscribe  and  lend.  .  .  .  Lin- 
colnshire did  little  better  than  rebel. 
.  .  .  Shropshire  hath  utterly  denied, 
and  so  hath  Devonshire,  and  the  gentle- 
men of  Warwickshire,  that  are  sent  for 
up,  do  refuse  to  come.  What  dire 
events  may  this  next  summer  follow 
upon  this,  together  with  the  enmity 
of  Spain,  France,  and  Flanders,  God 
only  knows  and  can  avert. 

Rev.    Jos.     Mead     to     Sir     Martin 

Stuteville. 
Christ  College,  Feb.  3d,  Shrove  Eve, 
1626-7. 

Besides  what  is  in  the  enclosed, 
holding  the  bottom  of  my  second  letter 
against  the  fire  till  it  grew  brown,  I 
read  as  followeth  : 

"  Sir — Will  you  believe  that  the  duke 
[Buckingham]  should  be  carried  in  his 
box  by  six  men  to  St.  James's  to  tennis, 
and  the  king  walk  by  him  on  foot? 
It  is  true.  I  doubt  not  but  you  have 
heard  of  the  play  in  Christmas,  which 
was  begun  again  at  the  duke's  entering, 
the  king  having  heard  one  full  act." 

Because  my  author  was  so  private, 
I  thought  not  fit  to  make  it  so  common 
as  the  rest. 

Unsigned  Letter  from  London. 
Feb.  9,  1626-7. 

There  is  a  new  plot  now  on  foot  for 
money.  Every  knight  bachelor  shall 
have  a  riband,  with    a   jewel    of   £5, 


from  the  king,  to  wear  continually  for 
distinction  between  them  and  gentle- 
men, for  which  they  must  pay  presently 
£25,  and  the  refusers  to  be  degraded. 
Baronets  for  the  like  to  pay  £40. 

Unsigned  Letter  from  London. 

March  16th,  1626-7. 

Though  but  few  or  none  yet  know 
of  it,  I  can  assure  you,  there  is  in  agi- 
tation a  royal  visitation  among  the 
clergy,  which  will  strike  as  deep  as  the 
loan  of  five  subsidies  doth  with  the 
laity ;  and  it  is  very  likely  to  proceed ; 
the  particulars  whereof,  with  the  pro- 
jectors, you  shall  know  hereafter. 

Letter  to  the  Rev.  Joseph  Mead. 

Nov.  23,  1627. 

There  is  a  new  loan  of  120  or 
£150,000  projected,  to  be  paid  in  by 
the  Lords  and  others  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  by  the  rich  officers  of  the 
Chancery,  the  Exchequer,  and  the 
Court  of  Wards. 

Rev.   Joseph     Mead    to    Sir    Martin 

Stuteville. 

Candlemas  Day,  Feb.  2nd,  1627-8. 

Because  the  last  news  I  heard  is  the 
best,  and  I  am  loth  to  keep  you  too 
long  from  it,  you  shall  have  it  in  the 
first  place ;  namely,  that  after  many 
projects  consulted  upon,  as  base  coin, 
whereof  every  man  to  receive  a  share, 
and  an  impost  of  two  shillings  or  two 
and  sixpence  a  chaldron  upon  coals, 
which  on  Monday  last  was  said  to  be 
concluded  upon :  all  such  devices  are 
now  dashed,  and  on  Tuesday  night  a 
parliament  resolved  on,  to  begin  on 
Monday  the  17th  of  March,  which  I 
pray  God  to  speed,  and  direct  all  their 
consultations  for  the  public  good,  set- 
ting aside  all  sources  of  contention  and 
disagreement. 


Charles  I 


7i 


Letter  of  Rev.  Joseph  Mead  to   Sir 
Ma  rtin   Stu  tev  Me . 

April  19th,  1628. 

.  .  .  The  same  day  (Apr.  12)  came 
a  startling  message  from   his  majesty  : 

"  His  majesty  having  long  since  given 
timely  notice  unto  you  .  .  .  wills  you 
to  take  heed  you  force  him  not  to  make 
an  unpleasing  end  of  that  which  hath 
been  so  happily  begun." 

Upon  the  delivery  of  this  message 
the  second  time,  (for  the  House  so 
would  have  it)  all  being  sad  and  silent, 
up  starts  Sir  Francis  Nethersole,  in- 
treating  licence  of  the  House,  that  he 
might  report  his  last  night's  dream, 
with  protestation  he  would  truly  deliver 
it.  Whereat  some  laughing,  he  told 
them  kingdoms  had  been  saved  by 
dreams.  So  they  bade  him  go  on. 
And  this  it  was,  according  to  the  per- 
fectest  relation,  I  heard  thereof.  He 
saw  two  goodly  pastures ;  a  flock  of 
sheep  in  one  of  them  ;  and  a  bellwether 
alone  in  the  other ;  a  great  ditch  be- 
tween them  both,  and  a  narrow  bridge 
over  that  ditch.  Here  the  speaker, 
with  good  words  of  his  person,  mildly 
interrupted  him,  saying  it  stood  not 
with  the  gravity  of  the  House  to  hear 
dreams.  But  the  gentlemen  desired  to 
hear  it  out:  so  on  he  went.  "  Some- 
times," said  he,  "  the  sheep  would  go 
over  unto  the  bellwether ;  sometimes 
the  bellwether  to  the  sheep.  On  a 
time,  both  met  on  the  narrow  bridge, 
and  the  question  was,  who  should  go 
back,  since  they  could  not  both  go  on, 
without  danger  to  be  overthrown  in  the 
ditch.  One  sheep  gave  counsel  that 
the  sheep  on  the  bridge  should  lie  on 
their  bellies,  and  let  the  bellwether  go 
over  their  backs."  The  application  to 
the  house. 

Sir  John  Elliot  thanked  the  speaker 
for  interrupting  the  gentleman,  saying 


it  became  not  the  gravity  of  that  House 
to  hear  dreams  told.  Sir  Edward  Coke 
said,  that  of  dreams  there  were  three 
kinds,  prophetical,  natural  and  fantas- 
tical, and  that  this  dream  was  of  the 
third  and  last  sort.  Sir  Thomas  Went- 
worth  said,  he  would  let  pass  the 
dream,  and  speak  to  his  majesty's  mes- 
sage, which  he  did.   .   .   . 

April  28th,  1628. 
What  news  we  received  on  Saturday 
you  shall  find  enclosed,  and  with  it  the 
king's  speech  on  Monday  before.  I 
saw  also  the  keeper's  preamble,  and 
the  petition  for  unbilleting  of  soldiers ; 
but  because  they  were  long,  and  I  had 
no  scribe  to  write  them,  I  have  not 
furnished  you  with  them.  And,  alas! 
what  delight  could  you  find  in  reading 
them,  when  you  must  hear,  that  since 
that  time  all  is  grown  woful  and  des- 
perate? I  have  not  yet  seen  this  day's 
letters  ;  yet  all  that  come  from  London 
tell  us  that  the  parliament  is  not  like  to 
hold  above  three  or  four  days  ;  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  Lords  stand  for  the 
king's  prerogative  against  the  subjects' 
liberties ;  that  my  lord  president  made 
a  speech  in  the  upper  house  on  the 
king's  behalf,  endeavouring  to  show  the 
inconveniences  which  might  follow  in 
having  our  king's  [hands]  so  tied. 
Against  whom  the  Earl  of  Arundel 
stood  up,  confuted  him,  and  made  a 
public  protestation  against  him  and  the 
rest  who  were  of  the  same  opinion, 
concluding  that  those  liberties  which 
now  they  would  betray,  were  those 
which  had  cost  so  much  of  their  pred- 
ecessors' blood  to  maintain  them  ;  and 
for  his  own  part,  he  was  resolved  to 
lose  his  own  life,  and  spend  his  own 
blood,  rather  than  he  would  ever  give 
consent  to  the  betraying  of  them.  Of 
his  part  were  fifty  lords  and  earls.  .  .  . 
The  bishops  were  divided.  .  .  .  The 
Bishop  of   Lincoln  [was]    much  com- 


72 


Charles  I. 


mended  for  what  he  spoke  on  behalf  of 
the  subject,  acknowledging  he  had  once 
offended  in  the  days  of  his  late  master, 
in  standing  for  the  prerogative  to  the 
prejudice  of  the  subjects'  liberties ;  for 
which  he  now  desired  forgiveness,  pro- 
fessing that  henceforward  neither  hope 
of  greater  preferments,  nor  fear  of  the 
loss  of  what  he  presently  enjoyed, 
should  make  him  do  or  speak  against 
his  conscience. 

The  attorney,  they  say,  motioned 
that  the  liberties  they  claimed  might  be 
moderated,  and  so  his  majesty  and  they 
should  sooner  agree.  But  Sir  Edward 
Coke  said  that  the  true  mother  would 
never  consent  to  the  dividing  of  her 
child.  Whereat  the  duke  swore  that 
he  did  as  much  as  intimate  that  the 
king,  his  master,  was  [an  abandoned 
woman]. 

The  House  of  Commons,  I  am?"ltold;, ; 
sat  four  days  without  speaking  &V  doing 
anything  ;  and  are  resolved  to  grant  no 
subsidies  till  his  majesty  give  them 
assurance  of  the  continuance  of  their 
liberties.  A  gentleman  told  me,  that 
they  desired  of  the  king  but  to  confirm 
that  of  their  persons  with  a  mitigation, 
namely,  that  none  should  be  imprisoned 
above  two  months  before  they  came  to 
their  answer.  That  they  offered  to 
pass  the  five  subsidies,  which  were 
formally  agreed  upon  by  a  general 
committee,  to  be  paid  between  this  and 
next  Candlemas :  and  to  add,  more- 
over, whatsoever  further  supply  should 
be  necessary  :  and  yet  his  majesty  re- 
fused them.  Whereupon  Sir  Edward 
Coke  said  publicly,  that  no  king  of 
England  ever  had  the  like  offer  made 
him  by  his  subjects ;  nor  ever  King 
Christian  denied  his  subjects  so  reason- 
able and  equal  request.  That  they 
meddled  neither  with  favourite  or  cour- 
tier ;  but  only  desired  a  confirmation  of 
the  liberties  granted  and  enjoyed  by 
their  predecessors  for  many  ages  :  and 


should  they  not  obtain  it?  .  .  .  The 
general  voice  is,  all  is  nought,  and  no 
hope  of  good  conclusion  left,  which 
God  if  it  be  his  blessed  will  avert,  and 
beyond  our  hope  bring  us  out  of  these 
woful  straits,  though  we  can  see  no 
way  of  deliverance  from  them.   .   . 

June  15th,  1628. 

I  know  you  have  heard  of  that  black 
and  doleful  Thursday,  June  the  5th, 
the  day  I  arrived  in  London ;  which 
was  by  degrees  occasioned  first  of  his 
majesty's  unsatisfactory  answer  on 
Monday  ;  increased  by  a  message  after- 
wards, that  his  majesty  was  resolved 
neither  to  add  to  nor  alter  the  answer 
he  had  given  them.  Hereupon  they 
fell  to  recount  the  miscarriages  of  our 
government,  and  the  disasters  of  all 
our  designs  these  later  years,  represent- 
ing everything  to  the  life;  but  the  first 
day  glancing  only  at  the  duke,  but  not 
naming  him.  On  Wednesday  they 
proceeded  farther  to  the  naming  of  him  ; 
Sir  Edward  Coke  breaking  the  ice,  and 
the  rest  following,  so  that  on  Thursday, 
they  growing  still  more  vehement,  and 
ready  to  fall  downright  upon  him,  a 
message  was  sent  from  his  majesty,  ab- 
solutely forbidding  them  to  meddle 
with  the  government  or  any  of  his 
majesty's  ministers;  but,  if  they  meant 
to  have  this  session,  forthwith  to  finish 
what  they  have  begun  :  otherwise  his 
majesty  would  dismiss  them.  Then 
appeared  such  a  spectacle  of  passions, 
as  the  like  had  seldom  been  seen  in 
such  an  assembly,  some  weeping,  some 
expostulating,  some  prophecying  of  tins 
fatal  ruin  of  our  kingdom  ;  some  play- 
ing the  divines,  in  confessing  their  own 
and  country's  sins,  which  drew  those 
judgments  upon  us;  some  finding,  as  it 
were,  fault  with  those  that  wept,  and 
expressing  their  bold  and  courageous 
resolutions  against  the  enemies  of  the 
king  and  kingdom. 


GEORGE    VILLIERS,    DUKE    OF    BUCKINGHAM. 
(The  original  painting  is  by  Van  der  Werft.) 


Charles  I. 


73 


I  have  been  told,  by  a  parliament 
man,  that  there  were  above  an  hundred 
weeping  eyes,  many  who  offered  to 
speak  being  interrupted  and  silenced 
by  their  own  passions.  But  they  stayed 
not  here,  but  as  grieved  men  are  wont, 
all  this  doleful  distemper  showered 
down  upon  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
as  the  cause  and  author  of  all  their 
misery,  in  the  midst  of  these  their 
pangs  crying  out  most  bitterly  against 
him,  as  the  abuser  of  the  king  and 
enemy  of  the  kingdom.  At  which 
time,  Mr.  Speaker,  not  able,  as  he 
seemed,  any  longer  to  behold  so  woful 
a  spectacle  in  so  grave  a  senate,  with 
tears  flowing  in  his  eyes,  besought  them 
to  grant  him  leave  to  go  out  for  half  an 
hour;  which  being  granted  him,  he 
went  presently  to  his  majesty,  and  in- 
formed him  what  a  state  the  House  was 
in,  and  came  presently  back  with  a 
message  to  dismiss  the  House  of  all 
committees  from  further  proceeding, 
until  next  morning,  when  they  should 
know  his  majesty's  pleasure  farther. 
The  like  was  sent  to  the  Lord's  House, 
and  not  there  entertained  without  some 
tears ;  both  Houses  accepting  it  as  a 
preparation  to  a  dissolution,  which  they 
expected  would  be  next  morning.  But 
this  is  observable  (I  hear  it  from  a  par- 
liament knight)  that,  had  not  the 
speaker  returned  at  that  very  moment, 
they  had  voted  the  duke  a  traitor  and 
arch  enemy  to  the  king  and  kingdom, 
with  a  worse  appendix  thereto,  some 
say  true.  They  were  then  calling  to  the 
question,  when  the  speaker  came  in,  but 
then  stayed  to  hear  his  message.   .   .   . 

June  21st,  Saturday,  1628. 
On  Saturday,  .  .  .  June  14,  after 
dinner,  the  king  and  duke  being  at 
bowls  in  the  Spring  Garden,  or,  as 
some  say,  looking  on  those  who  were 
playing  at  bowls,  the  duke  put  on  his 
hat.     A  Scottishman,  one  Wilson,  see- 


ing it,  kisses  his  hand,  and  snatches  it 
off,  saying,  "You  must  not  stand  with 
your  hat  on  before  my  king."  The 
duke  falling  to  kick  him,  the  king  said, 
"Let  him,  George;  he  is  either  mad 
or  a  fool." — "No,  sir,"  quoth  Wilson, 
"I  am  a  sober  man;  but  this  man's 
health  is  pledged  with  as  much  devo- 
tion at  Dunkirk,  as  your  majesty's 
here."    .   .   . 

St.  Peter's  Eve,  June  29,  1628. 

That  barbarous  rabble,  which  mauled 
and  mangled  Dr.  Lamb  [who  had  been 
murdered  on  June  13th  in  a  tumult  that 
began  by  some  boys  calling  him  the 
Duke's  devil"],  did  it  in  reference  to  the 
duke  his  master,  as  they  called  him, 
whom,  they  said,  had  he  been  there, 
they  would  have  handled  worse,  and 
would  have  minced  his  flesh,  and  have 
had  every  one  a  bit  of  him.   .   .   . 

This  week,  about  Wednesday,  his 
majesty  went  with  the  duke,  (taking 
him  into  his  coach,  and  so  riding 
through  the  city,  as  it  were  to  grace 
him)  to  Deptford,  to  see  the  ships: 
where,  having  seen  ten  fair  ships  ready 
rigged  for  Rochelle,  they  say  he  uttered 
these  words  to  the  duke :  "  George, 
there  are  some  that  wish  that  these  and 
thou  mightest  both  perish.  But  care 
not  for  them  :  we  will  both  perish  to- 
gether, if  thou  doest." 


5.  Letter  from  Portsmouth  of  Sir 
Dudley  Carleton  to  the  Queen.  (In 
Ellis:   1st  Series,  3rd  volume,  p.  256.) 

Maddam,  I  am  to  trouble  your  Grace 
with  a  most  Lamentable  Relation  ;  This 
day  [Aug.  23]  betwixt  nine  and  ten  of 
the  clock  in  the  morning,  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham  then  coming  out  of  a 
Parlor,  into  a  Hall,  to  goe  to  his  coach 
and  soe  to  the  king  (who  was  four 
miles  of)  having  about  him  diverse 
Lords,  Colonells  and  Captains,  and 
many  of  his  owne  Servants,  was  by  one 


74 


Charles  I. 


Felton  (once  a  Lieutenant  of  this  our 
Army)  slaine  at  one  blow,  with  a  dag- 
ger-knife. In  his  staggering  he  turn'd 
about,  uttering  onely  this  word,  "  Vil- 
laine "  and  never  spake  word  more, 
but  presently  plucking  out  the  knife 
from  himselfe,  before  he  fell  to  the 
ground,  hee  made  towards  the  Tray  tor, 
two  or  three  paces,  and  then  fell  against 
a  Table  although  he  were  upheld  by 
diverse  that  "were  neere  him,  that 
(through  the  villaines  close  carriage  in 
the  act)  could  not  perceive  him  hurt  at 
all,  but  guessed  him  to  be  suddenly 
oversway'd  with  some  apoplexie,  till 
they  saw  the  blood  come  gushing  from 
his  mouth  and  the  wound,  soe  fast,  that 
life  and  breath  at  once  left  his  begored 
body.  Maddam,  you  may  easily  guesse 
what  outcryes  were  then  made,  by  us 
that  were  Com  maunders  and  Officers 
there  present,  when  wee  saw  him  thus 
dead  in  a  moment,  and  slaine  by  an  un- 
knowne  hand;  for  it  seemes  that  the 
Duke  himselfe  only  knew  who  it  was 
that  had  murdered  him,  and  by  meanes 
of  the  confused  presse  at  the  instant 
about  his  person,  wee  neither  did  nor 
could.   .   .   . 

But  to  returne  to  the  screeches  made 
att  the  fatall  blow  given,  the  Duchesse 
of  Buckingham  and  Countess  of  An- 
glesey came  forth  into  a  Gallery  which 
looked  into  the  Hall  where  they  might 
behold  the  blood  of  their  deerest  Lord 
gushing  from  him.  Ah  poore  Ladies, 
such  was  their  screechings,  teares  and 
distractions,  that  I  never  in  my  Life 
heard  the  like  before,  and  hope  never 
to  hear  the  like  againe. 


6.  Extract  from  the  Autobiography 
of  Sir  Simonds  d'Ewes. 

1628. 

Some  of  his  friends  had  advised  him 
[Buckingham]  how  generally  he  was 
hated  in  England,  and  how  needful  it 


would  be  for  his  greater  safety  to  wear 
some  coat  of  mail  or  some  other  secret 
defensive  armour :  which  the  Duke 
slighting,  said,  "It  needs  not;  there 
are  no  Roman  spirits  left."  August 
the  23rd,  being  Saturday,  the  Duke 
having  eaten  his  breakfast  between 
eight  and  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
in  one  Mr.  Mason's  house  in  Ports- 
mouth, was  then  hasting  away  to  the 
king,  who  lay  at  Reswick,  some  five 
miles  distant,  to  have  some  speedy  con- 
ference with  him.  Being  come  to  the 
further  part  of  the  entry  leading  out  of 
the  parlour  into  the  hall  of  the  house, 
he  had  there  some  conference  with  Sir 
Thomas  Frier,  Knt.,  a  colonel,  and 
stooping  down  in  taking  his  leave  of 
him,  John  Felton,  a  gentleman,  having 
watched  his  opportunity,  thrust  a  long 
knife  with  a  white  haft  he  had  secretly 
about  him,  with  great  strength  and  vio- 
lence, into  his  breast,  under  his  left 
pap,  cutting  the  diaphragm  and  lungs, 
and  piercing  the  very  heart  itself.  .  .  . 
He  pulled  out  the  knife  himself,  and 
being  carried  by  his  servants  unto  the 
table  that  stood  in  the  same  hall,  hav- 
ing struggled  with  death  near  upon 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  gave  up 
the  ghost  about  ten  of  the  clock  the 
same  forenoon,  and  lay  a  long  time 
after  he  was  dead  upon  the  hall  table 
there.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Felton,  even  to  his  death,  avowed 
.  .  .  that  the  love  only  of  the  public 
good  induced  him  to  that  act.  For, 
having  read  the  Remonstrance  the 
House  of  Commons  preferred  to  the 
King  in  the  late  session  of  Parliament, 
by  which  the  Duke  was  branded  to  be 
a  capital  enemy  to  Church  and  State, 
and  that  there  was  no  public  justice 
to  be  had  against  him,  he  had  strong 
inward  workings  and  resolutions  to 
sacrifice  himself  for  the  Church  and 
State. 


Charles  I. 


75 


...   7.  Private     Letters     regarding 
Sir  John  Elliot. 

Mr.  Pory  to  Sir  Thomas  Puckering. 
Jan.  12,  1631-2. 
This  other  day,  Sir  John  Elliot's  at- 
torney-at-law  told  me  he  had  been  with 
him  long  since  his  removal  into  his  new- 
lodging,  and  found  him  the  same  cheer- 
ful, healthful,  undaunted  man  that  ever 
he  was.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Pory  to  Lord  Brooke. 

Oct.  25th,  1632. 
.  .  .  On  Tuesday  was  sennight,  Mr. 
Mason,  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  made  a  mo- 
tion to  the  judges  of  the  King' s  Bench 
for  Sir  John  Elliot,  that  whereas  the 
doctors  were  of  opinion  he  could  never 
recover  of  his  consumption  until  such 
time  as  he  might  breathe  in  purer  air, 
they  would  for  some  certain  time  grant 
him  his  enlargement  for  that  purpose. 
Whereunto  my  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Richardson  answered,  that,  although 
Sir  John  were  brought  low  in  body, 
yet  was  he  as  high  and  lofty  in  mind  as 
ever;  for  he  would  neither  submit  to 
the  king  nor  to  the  justice  of  that  court. 
In  fine,  it  was  concluded  by  the  Bench 
to  refer  him  to  the  king  by  way  of 
petition. 


8.  Extracts  from  the  Autobiography 
of  Sir  Simonds  d'Ewes.  [Written  in 
1638.] 

This  year  [1635.  There  had  been 
no  parliament  in  all  this  time]  brought 
forth  many  sad  and  dismal  effects  in 
the  public,  both  at  home  and  abroad. 
...  At  home  the  liberty  of  the  sub- 
jects of  England  received  the  most 
deadly  and  fatal  blow  it  had  been  sen- 
sible of  in  five  hundred  years  last  past ; 
for  writs  were  issued  the  summer  fore- 
going to  all  the  sheriffs  of  England,  to 
levy  great  sums  of  money  in  all  the 
counties   of    the    same    kingdom    and 


Wales,  under  pretext  and  colour  to 
provide  ships  for  the  defence  of  the 
kingdom,  although  we  were  now  in 
peace  with  all  the  world,  and  the  royal 
fleet  was  never  stronger  or  in  better 
case.  The  sum  now  to  be  levied  came 
to  some  £320,000,  and  if  this  could  be 
done  lawfully,  then  by  the  same  right 
the  king  upon  the  like  pretence  might 
gather  the  same  sum  ten,  twelve,  or  a 
hundred  times  redoubled,  and  so  to  in- 
finite proportions  to  any  one  shire, 
when  and  as  often  as  he  pleased ;  and 
so  no  man  was,  in  conclusion,  worth 
anything. 

I  conceived  the  king  himself  might 
be  informed  this  taxation  and  levy  was 
lawful ;  but  it  was  afterwards  cleared 
by  Sir  George  Crooke,  Knt.,  one  of  the 
justices  of  the  King's  Bench,  in  his  ar- 
gument in  the  Exchequer  Chamber  .  .  . 
that  this  taxation  was  absolutely  against 
law,  and  an  utter  oppression  of  the  sub- 
jects' liberty,  who  had  such  a  property 
in  their  goods  as  could  not  be  taken 
from  them  by  any  taxes  or  levies,  but 
such  only  as  were  enacted  and  set  down 
by  Act  of  Parliament.  .  .  .  Sir  John 
Denham,  the  ancientest  Baron  of  the 
Exchequer,  gave  the  same  judgment 
for  the  liberty  of  the  subject.  And, 
indeed  all  our  liberties  were  now  at 
one  dash  utterly  ruined  if  the  king 
might  at  his  pleasure  lay  what  unlim- 
ited taxes  he  pleased  on  his  subjects, 
and  then  imprison  them  when  they  re- 
fused to  pay;  for  though  to  take  men's 
estates  away  might  in  the  issue  bring 
on  poverty  and  death,  yet  that  is  not  so 
certain  a  way  nor  so  speedy  to  shorten 
our  lives  as  imprisonment  is,  where,  by 
restraint  of  exercise  and  unwholesome 
air,  many  men  must  as  necessarily 
perish  as  by  the  sword.  Besides,  what 
shall  freemen  differ  from  the  ancient 
bondsmen  and  villains  of  England,  if 
their  estates  be  subject  to  arbitrary 
taxes,    tallages    and    impositions?  .  .  . 


76 


Charles  I. 


In  all  my  life  I  never  saw  so  many  sad 
faces  in  England  as  this  new  taxation, 
called  ship-money,  occasioned;  nay, 
the  grief  and  astonishment  of  most 
men's  hearts  broke  out  into  sad  and 
doleful  complaints,  not  only  under  the 
burthen  they  felt  at  the  instant,  but 
with  ominous  presage  of  the  issue ;  for 
many  refused  absolutely  to  pay.#  and 
most  that  did  pay  it,  yielded  out  of 
mere  fear  and  horror  of  greater  dan- 
ger :  whence  the  before-mentioned  Mr. 
Judge  Hutton  said  plainly  in  his  argu- 
ment, that  "it  was  not  the  king's  pre- 
rogative to  take  his  subjects'  goods 
from  them  with  their  heartburnings." 
For  mine  own  part,  I  so  far  desired 
the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  kingdom,  as 
I  could  have  wished  this  tax  had  been 
annexed  to  the  Crown  (to  levy  annu- 
ally without  alteration)  by  Act  of  Par- 
liament; but  thus  to  pluck  away  the 
subjects'  goods  and  estates  from  them 
contrary  to  their  ancient  and  hereditary 
liberties,  by  force  and  power,  what  can 
the  issue  of  it  be  but  fatal?  Some 
were  so  overwise  as  to  think  the  king 
the  happier  because  he  should  now 
never  need  any  Parliament ;  but  alas ! 
in  that  they  were  grossly  deceived,  un- 
less they  will  say  it  is  a  happiness  for 
a  Prince  to  want  the  love  of  his  sub- 
jects, to  have  truth  concealed  from  him, 
and  to  have  the  distempers  of  Church 
and  Commonwealth  to  grow  unto  in- 
curable diseases.  .  .  .  Kings  are  but 
men ;  and  it  is  their  miseries  for  the 
most  part,  either  not  to  be  informed  of 
the  miseries  and  calamities  of  their  sub- 
jects at  all,  or  if  they  be,  to  have  the 
matter  smothered  up  by  some  great 
ones,  or  to  have  some  private  emolu- 
ment by  it.  .  .  .  There  are  only  three 
cases  in  which,  by  the  ancient  law  of 
England,  the  kings  of  that  realm  may 
require  aid  of  their  subjects  without  the 
public  consent  of  their  kingdom:  ist. 
In  case  the   Sovereign  be  taken   pris- 


oner, to  redeem  him.  2d.  For  the 
knighting  of  his  eldest  son.  3d.  For 
the  marriage  of  his  eldest  daughter, 
once  only.  But  yet  these  aids  are  not 
like  this  ship-money,  without  bounds 
or  limits,  to  be  levied  of  all  men,  and 
in  what  proportion  the  king  shall 
please ;  for  they  can  only  be  levied  of 
knights'  fees,  and  such  as  hold  their 
lands  by  that  tenure ;  and  the  utmost 
that  can  be  required  is  but  forty  shil- 
lings upon  each  knight's  fee. 


9.  Extracts  from  Nehemiah  Wal- 
lington's  Historical  Notices  (Ed.  Webb. 
London,  1870,  Vol.  I.). 

.  .  .  There  hath  come  from  Ireland 
many  such  sad  pitiful  letters,  concern- 
ing the  miserable  and  sad  condition  of 
the  poor  protestants  there,  with  the 
great  increase  of  their  enemies  the 
Rebels,  that  it  should  make  our  hearts 
bleed ;  but  I  give  you  but  a  taste  of  the 
bitter  cup  that  they  drink  of.  And 
still  they  lie  languishing  and  crying 
unto  us,  saying,  Have  you  no  pity 
of  me,  O  you  in  England  ?  Oh  have 
ye  no  regard,  all  you  that  hear  of  my 
miseries?  Behold  and  see  if  there  be 
any  sorrow  like  unto  my  sorrow  which 
is  done  unto  me,  wherewith  the  Lord 
hath  afflicted  me  in  the  day  of  his  fierce 
wrath. 

In  October  1641,  when  the  Rebels 
did  first  arise  in  Ireland,  there  were 
the  Sufferings  and  Miseries  of  my  wife's 
Brother,  Zachariah  Rampain,  his  wife 
and  five  children,  four  of  his  children 
dwelling  in  the  house  with  him,  having 
every  child  a  maid-servant  attending 
on  them  ;  his  wife  and  children  very 
tenderly  brought  up,  and  he  a  man 
well-beloved  and  of  a  great  estate, 
dwelling  in  the  north  part  of  Ireland, 
in  the  county  of  Fermanagh,  near 
Enniskillen. 

Captain  Adkinson  (which  was  kin 
to    my  Brother's    first  wife)    being   in 


Charles  I. 


77 


Castlecoule,  in  the  county  of  Fer- 
managh, knowing  of  the  Rebels  com- 
ing, sent  to  speak  to  my  Brother,  and 
caused  him  to  bring  his  family  and 
goods  into  the  Castle,  and  they  did  by 
Saturday  night  get  in  what  goods  they 
could  into  the  Castle  ;  and  on  Monday, 
Brian  Maguire  came  with  his  Army 
against  it,  and  took  the  castle ;  and  the 
next  day  my  Brother  and  his  family 
had  a  pass  under  Brian's  hand  to  depart 
the  Kingdom,  and  they  sent  a  guard 
along  with  them,  and  then  sent  another 
company  after  them  to  murder  them. 
So  when  they  were  gone  about  six 
miles  off,  they  stripped  them  all,  and 
bid  them  say  their  prayers,  for  they 
would  kill  them  all.  Then  they  first 
did  kill  my  Brother  Zachariah,  stabbing 
their  skenes  (swords)  into  him  (as 
also  his  wife's  brother,  and  a  gentle- 
man, they  killed  there  in  like  manner 
also,  cutting  all  their  throats  after  they 
had  stabbed  them)  ;  which  his  wife 
beholding  did  on  her  knees  beg  for  his 
life,  as  also  his  children,  crying  piti- 
fully, "O  do  not  kill  my  Father,  O 
do  not  kill  my  Father,"  being  much 
distracted,  pulling  their  hair,  being  con- 
tent and  desiring  to  die  with  him.  But 
these  bloody  Rebels  did  drive  them 
from  him,  saying  they  would  reserve 
them  for  a  worse  death,  even  to  starve 
them  to  death. 

Then  my  sister  and  her  four  children, 
and  her  maids,  and  a  gentlewoman 
(whose  husband  they  then  had  hewed 
to  pieces  before  their  faces)  they  went 
all  naked  on  a  mount,  and  sat  starving 
there.  .  .  .  Then  my  sister  did  get 
into  Coule  Castle,  again,  to  Captain 
Adkinson,  but  she  was  got  into  an  old 
house,  but  could  get  no  relief,  and  then, 
having  intelligence  she  should  be  cut 
all  to  pieces,  she  then  did  get  away, 
and  in  her  journey  by  the  way  she  had 
two  children  starved  to  death  with 
hunger  and  cold.   .   .   . 


Now  mark  what  folio weth,  "  He 
that  sheddeth  blood,  by  man  shall  his 
blood  be  shed"  saith  the  Lord. 

It  was  not  long  after  but  it  was  known 
that  one  of  those  men  that  had  a  hand 
in  killing  my  brother,  he  was  killed, 
and  I  make  no  question  but  the  rest  are, 
or  will  be,  in  God' s  time.  And  towards 
the  latter  end  of  May  1641,  was  the 
Earl  of  Strafford,  Deputy  of  Ireland, 
that  was  a  great  agent  employed  by  the 
king  in  shedding  of  the  blood  of  the- 
Protestants  in  Ireland,  beheaded  on 
the  scaffold  upon  Tower  Hill. 

.  .  .  Above  three  score  times  was 
this  Earl  of  Strafford  spoken  of  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  For,  from  the 
first  day  of  their  sitting,  which  was  the 
7th  of  November,  1640,  till  the  10th 
of  May,  1 64 1,  still  now  and  then  he 
was  complained  of,  and  spoken  of  in 
the  House.  And  surely  I  do  not  know 
of  anything  they  had  so  long  in  hand  as 
this  Earl  of  Strafford,  for  he  was  very 
cunning  and  very  tough  in  the  handling. 

10.  Extracts  from  M.  Baillie,  Letters 
and  Journals.  (Edinb.,  1841.  Vol.  L, 
p.  314.)  [Relating  to  the  Trial  of 
Strafford  by  the  Parliament.  Begun 
Monday,  March  22nd,  1 640-1.] 

Westminster  Hall  is  a  roome  as  long 
[and]  as  broad  if  not  more  than  the  outer 
house  of  the  High  Church  of  Glasgow, 
supponing  the  pillars  were  removed.  In 
the  midst  of  it  was  erected  a  stage  like 
to  that  prepared  for  the  Assemblie  of 
Glasgow,  but  much  more  large,  taking 
up  the  breadth  of  the  whole  House  from 
wall  to  wall,  and  of  the  length  more 
than  a  thrid  part.  At  the  north  end 
was  set  a  throne  for  the  King,  and  a 
chayre  for  the  Prince ;  before  it  lay  a 
large  wool-seek,  covered  with  green, 
for  my  Lord  Steward,  the  Earle  of 
Arundaill ;  beneath  it  lay  two  other 
seeks  for  my  Lord  Keeper  and  the 
Judges,  with  the  rest  of  the  Chancerie,, 


78 


Charles  I. 


all  in  their  red  robes.  Beneath  this  a 
little  table  for  four  or  fyve  Clerks  of 
the  Parliament  in  their  black  gowns ; 
round  about  these  some  furmes 
[benches]  covered  with  green  freese, 
whereupon  the  Earles  and  Lords  did 
sit  in  their  red  robes,  of  that  same  fash- 
ion, lyned  with  the  same  whyte  ermin 
skinnts,  as  you  see  the  robes  of  our 
Lords  when  they  ryde  in  Parliament ; 
the  Lords  on  their  right  sleeve  having 
two  barres  of  whyte  skinnes,  the  Vis- 
counts two  and  ane  half,  the  Earles 
three,  the  Marquess  of  Wincester  three 
and  ane  half,  England  hath  no  more 
Marquesses  :  and  he  bot  one  late  up- 
start of  creature  of  Queen  Elizabeth's. 
Hamilton  goes  here  bot  among  the 
Earles,  and  that  a  late  one,  Dukes,  they 
have  none  in  Parliament :  York,  Rich- 
mond, and  Buckinghame  are  butboyes; 
Lennox  goeth  among  the  late  Earles. 
Behind  the  formes  where  the  Lords  sitt, 
there  is  a  barr  covered  with  green  :  at 
the  one  end  standeth  the  Committee  of 
eight  or  ten  gentlemen,  appoynted  by 
the  House  of  Commons  to  pursue  :  at 
the  midst  there  is  a  little  dask,  where 
the  prisoner  Strafford  stands  and  sitts 
as  he  pleaseth,  together  with  his  keeper, 
Sir  William  Balfour,  the  Lieutenant  of 
the  Tower.  At  the  back  of  this  is  a 
dask,  for  Strafford's  four  secretars, 
who  carries  his  papers  and  assists  him 
in  writing  and  reading ;  at  their  side  is 
a  voyd  for  witnesses  to  stand  ;  and  be- 
hinde  them  a  long  dask  at  the  wall  of 
the  room  for  Strafford's  counsell-at-law, 
some  five  or  six  able  lawyers,  who  were 
not  permitted  to  disputt  in  matter  of 
fact,  but  questions  of  right,  if  ane 
should  be  incident.  This  is  the  order 
of  the  House  below  on  the  floore ;  the 
same  that  is  used  dailie  in  the  Higher 
House.  Upon  the  two  sides  of  the 
House,  east  and  west,  there  arose  a 
stage  of  elevin  ranks  of  formes,  the 
highest  touching  the  roof ;  everyone  of 


these  formes  went  from  one  end  of  the 
roome  to  the  other,  and  contained  about 
fortie  men.  .  .  .  All  the  doores  were 
keeped  verie  straitlie  with  guards ;  we 
always  behooved  to  be  there  a  little 
after  five  in  the  morning.  .  .  .  By 
favour  we  got  place  within  the  raile, 
among  the  Commons.  The  House 
was  full  dailie  before  seven ;  against 
eight  the  Earle  of  Strafford  came  in  his 
barge  from  the  Tower,  accompanied 
with  the  Lieutenant  and  a  guard  of 
musqueteers  and  halberders.  The 
Loi-ds,  in  their  robes  were  sett  about 
eight ;  the  king  was  usuallie  halfe  an 
howre  before  them  :  he  came  not  into 
his  throne,  for  that  would  have  marred 
the  action  ;  for  it  is  the  order  of  Eng- 
land, that  when  the  king  appears,  he 
speaks  what  he  will,  bot  no  other 
speaks  in  his  presence.  At  the  back  of 
the  throne,  there  was  two  rooms  on  the 
two  sydes  ;  in  the  one  did  Duke  de  Van- 
den,  Duke  de  Vallet,  and  other  French 
nobles  sitt ;  in  the  other  the  king,  the 
queen,  Princesse  Mary,  the  Prince 
Elector,  and  some  Court  ladies ;  the  tir- 
lies,  that  made  them  to  be  secret,  the  king 
brake  down  with  his  own  hands  ;  so  they 
sat  in  the  eye  of  all,  bot  little  more  re- 
garded than  if  they  had  been  absent ;  for 
the  Lords  sat  all  covered ;  these  of  the 
Lower  House,  and  all  other  except  the 
French  noblemen,  sat  discovered  when 
the  Lords  came,  not  else.  A  number 
of  ladies  wes  in  boxes,  above  the  railes, 
for  which  they  payed  much  money.  It 
was  dailie  the  most  glorious  Assemblie 
the  Isle  could  afford  ;  yet  the  gravitie 
not  such  as  I  expected  ;  oft  great  clam- 
our without  about  the  doores ;  in  the 
intervalles,  while  Strafford  was  making 
readie  for  answers,  the  Lords  got 
alwayes  to  their  feet,  walked  and  clat- 
tered ;  the  Lower  House  men  too  loud 
clattering ;  after  ten  houres,  much  pub- 
lict  eating,  not  onlie  of  confections,  bot 
of  flesh  and  bread,  bottles  of  beer  and 


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Charles  I 


79 


wine  going  thick  from  mouth  to  mouth 
without  cups,  and  all  this  in  the  king's 
eye ;  .  .  .  there  was  no  outgoing  to 
returne ;  and  oft  the  sitting  was  till 
two,  or  three,  or  four  o'clock. 

The  first  session  was  on  Mononday 
the  22nd  of  March.  All  heing  sett,  as 
I  have  said,  the  Prince  in  his  robes  on 
a  little  chyre  at  the  syde  of  the  throne, 
the  Chamberland  and  Black-Rod  went 
and  fetched  in  my  Lord  Strafford ;  he 
was  alwayes  in  the  same  sute  of  black, 
as  in  doole.  At  the  entrie  he  gave  a 
low  courtesie,  proceeding  a  little,  he 
gave  a  second,  when  he  came  to  his 
dask  a  third,  then  at  the  barr,  the  fore- 
face  of  his  dask,  he  kneeled  :  ryseing 
quicklie,  he  saluted  both  sides  of  the 
Houses,  and  then  satt  down.  Some 
few  of  the  Lords  lifted  their  hatts  to 
him  ;  this  was  his  dailie  carriage. 

My  Lord  Steward,  in  a  sentence  or 
two,  shew  that  the  House  of  Commons 
had  accused  the  Earle  of  Strafford  of 
High  Treason,  that  he  was  there  to 
answer  ;  that  they  might  manadge  their 
evidence  as  they  thought  meet.  They 
desyred  one  of  the  Clerks  to  read  their 
impeachment.  I  sent  you  long  agoe 
the  printed  copie.    .   .   . 

On  Tuesday  the  13th,  all  being  sett 
as  before,  Strafford  made  a  speech 
large  two  hours  and  ane  half ;  went 
through  all  the  articles.  .  .  .  To  all  he 
repeated  not  (nought)  new,  bot  the 
best  of  his  former  answers  ;  and  in  the 
end,  after  some  lashness  and  fagging, 
he  made  such  ane  pathetick  oration  for 
ane  half  houre,  as  ever  comedian  did 
upon  a  stage.  The  matter  and  ex- 
pression was  exceeding  brave :  doubt- 
less, if  he  had  grace  or  civill  goodness, 
he  is  a  most  eloquent  man.  The  speech 
you  have  it  here  in  print.  One  pas- 
sadge  made  it  most  spoken  of ;  his 
breaking  off  in  weeping  and  silence, 
when  he  spoke  of  his  first  wife.  Some 
took  it  for  a  true  defect  of  his  mem- 


orie ;  others,  and  the  most  part,  for  a 
notable  part  of  his  rhetorick ;  some 
that  true  grief,  and  remorse  at  that 
remembrance,  had  stopped  his  mouth  ; 
for  they  say,  that  his  first  Lady,  the 
Earl  of  Clare's  sister,  being  with  child, 

and  finding  one   of   his  's   letters, 

brought  it  to  him,  and  chideing  him 
therefore,  he  stroke  her  on  the  breast, 
whereof  shortlie  she  died.  Mr.  Glyn 
did  follow  with  a  speech  three  houres 
long ;  the  great  length  of  the  speech 
made  him  fagg  in  the  end.  He  referred 
the  odiousness  of  the  cryme  to  the 
handeling  of  another.  This  was  Mr. 
Pym,  who  truelie,  to  the  confession  of 
all,  in  half  ane  hour,  made  one  of  the 
most  eloquent,  wise  free  speeches,  that 
ever  we  heard,  or  I  think  shall  ever 
hear.  Some  of  the  passages  of  it,  and 
no  more  bot  some,  and  these  defaced,  I 
send  yow  in  print,  as  they  have  been 
taken  in  speaking  by  some  common 
hand.  To  humble  the  man,  God  lett 
his  memorie  faill  him  a  little  before 
the  end.  His  papers  he  looked  on ; 
bot  they  could  not  help  him  to  a  point 
or  two,  so  he  behoved  to  passe  them  : 
I  believe  the  King  never  heard  a  lec- 
ture of  so  free  language  against  that  his 
idolised  prerogative.  .  .  .  For  diverse 
dayes  thereafter  the  House  of  Commons 
went  on  with  their  Bill  of  Attainture. 
Whenitwasreadieand  read  three  diverse 
dayes,  at  last  it  was  voyced  and  carried, 
only  fifty- eight  contradicting.  For  this 
there  was  great  joy  among  us  all,  and 
praise  to  God.  These  friends  of  Straf- 
ford' s  were  much  discountenanced  by  all 
honest  men.  Some  printed  their  names, 
and  fixed  them  on  publict  wayes. 


1 1 .  Conclusion  of  the  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford's  Defence.  (In  Somers'  Tracts, 
Edited  by  Walter  Scott,  Vol.  IV. 
1810.) 

.  .  .  My  lords,  there  yet  remains 
another  treason  that  I  should  be  guilty 


8o 


Charles  I. 


of ;  the  endeavoring  to  subvert  the  fun- 
damental laws  of  the  land,  that  they 
should  now  be  treason  together,  that  is 
not  treason  in  any  one  part.  .  .  .  Under 
favor,  my  lords,  I  do  not  conceive  that 
there  is  either  statute  law,  nor  common 
law,  that  doth  declare  the  endeavoring 
to  subvert  the  fundamental  laws  to  be 
high  treason.  .  .  .  And  yet  I  have 
been  diligent  to  enquire  (as  I  believe 
you  think  it  doth  concern  me  to  do). 

It  is  hard  to  be  questioned  for  life 
and  honor,  upon  a  law  that  can  not  be 
shown.  .  .  .  Where  hath  this  fire  lain 
all  this  while,  so  many  hundreds  of 
years,  without  any  smoke  to  discover  it, 
till  it  thus  burst  forth  to  consume  me 
and  my  children?  Extreme  hard  in 
my  opinion,  that  punishment  should 
precede  promulgation  of  a  law,  [that  I 
should  be]  punished  by  a  law  subse- 
quent to  the  acts  done.  .  .  .  My  lords, 
it  is  hard  in  another  respect, — that 
there  should  be  no  token  set  upon  this 
offence,  by  which  we  should  know  it, 
no  admonition  by  which  we  should  be 
aware  of  it. 

If  a  man  pass  down  the  Thames  in 
a  boat,  and  it  be  split  upon  an  anchor, 
no  buoy  being  set  as  a  token  that  there 
is  an  anchor  there,  that  party  that  owns 
the  anchor,  by  the  maritime  laws,  shall 
give  satisfaction  for  the  damage  done ; 
but  if  it  were  marked  out,  I  must  come 
upon  my  own  peril.  Now  where  is 
the  mark  upon  this  crime,  where  is  the 
token  that  this  is  high  treason?  If  it 
be  under  water,  and  not  above  water, 
no  human  providence  can  avail,  nor 
prevent  my  destruction.  .  Lay  aside  all 
human  wisdom,  and  let  us  rest  upon 
divine  revelation,  if  you  will  condemn 
before  you  forewarn  of  the  danger. 

Oh  my  lords,  may  your  lordships 
be  pleased  to  give  that  regard  unto  the 
peerage  of  England,  as  never  to  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  put  on  those  nice  points. 
...  If  there  must  "be  a  trial  of  wits,  I 


do  most  humbly  beseech  you  the  sub- 
ject and  matter  may  be  somewhat  else 
than  the  lives  and  honors  of  peers. 

My  lords  we  find  that  in  the  prim- 
itive times,  in  the  progression  of  the 
plain  doctrine  of  the  apostles,  they 
brought  the  books  of  curious  arts,  and 
burned  them,  and  so  likewise,  as  I  do 
conceive,  it  will  be  wisdom  and  provi- 
dence in  your  lordships,  for  your  pos- 
terity and  the  whole  kingdom,  to  cast 
from  you  into  the  fire  these  bloody  and 
most  mysterious  volumes  of  construc- 
tive and  arbitrary  treason,  and  to  be- 
take yourselves  to  the  plain  letter  of  the 
law  and  statute,  that  telleth  us  where 
the  crime  is,  and  by  telling  what  is, 
and  what  is  not,  shows  how  to  avoid  it. 
And  let  us  not  be  ambitious  to  be  more 
wise  and  learned  in  the  killing  arts  than 
our  forefathers  were. 

It  is  now  full  240  years  since  ever 
any  man  was  touched  for  this  alledged 
crime  (to  this  height)  before  myself : 
we  have  lived  happily  to  ourselves  at 
home,  and  we  have  lived  gloriously  to 
the  world  abroad.  Let  us  rest  con- 
tented with  that  which  our  fathers  left 
us,  and  not  awake  those  sleepy  lions  to 
our  own  destructions,  by  taking  up  a 
few  musty  records,  that  have  lain  so 
many  ages  by  the  walls,  quite  forgotten 
and  neglected.   .   .   . 

My  lords,  I  have  now  troubled  you 
longer  than  I  should  have  done  :  were 
it  not  for  the  interest  of  those  dear 
pledges  a  saint  in  Heaven  hath  left  me, 
I  should  be  loath  my  lords  (There  he 
stopped). 

What  I  forfeit  for  myself,  it  is  noth- 
ing, but  that  my  indiscretion  should 
forfeit  for  my  child,  it  even  woundeth 
me  deep  to  the  very  soul.  You  will 
pardon  my  infirmity ;  something  I 
should  have  said,  but  I  am  not  able, 
(and  sighed),  therefore  let  it  pass. 

And  now,  my  lords,  I  have  been,  by 
the  blessing  of   Almighty  God,  taught 


Charles  I. 


81 


that  the  afflictions  of  this  life  present, 
are  not  to  be  compared  to  the  eternal 
weight  of  glory  that  shall  be  revealed 
to  us  hereafter. 

And  so,  my  lords,  even  so  with  tran- 
quility of  mind,  I  do  submit  myself 
freely  and  clearly  to  your  lordships' 
judgment,  and  whether  that  righteous 
judgment  shall  be  to  life  or  death, 

Te  Deum  laudamus, 
te  dominum  confitemur. 


12.  Extracts  from  Whitelocke's  Me- 
morials. 

1641. 

Certainly  never  any  man  acted  such 
a  part  on  such  a  theatre  with  more  wis- 
dom, constancy  and  eloquence,  with 
greater  reason,  judgment  and  temper, 
and  with  a  better  grace  in  all  his  words 
and  gestures,  than  this  great  and  excel- 
lent person  did ;  and  he  moved  the 
hearts  of  all  his  auditors  (some  few  ex- 
cepted) to  remorse  and  pity.   .   .   . 

After  this,  a  bill  was  brought  into 
the  house  of  commons  to  attaint  the 
earl  of  high  treason ;  upon  debate 
whereof,  they  voted  him  guilty  of  high 
treason. 

May  1. 

The  king  called  both  houses  of  par- 
liament together,  and  did  passionately 
desire  of  them  not  to  proceed  severely 
against  the  earl,  whom  he  answered 
for,  as  to  most  of  the  main  particulars 
of  the  charge  against  him  ;  tells  them 
that  in  conscience  he  can  not  condemn 
the  earl  of  high  treason,  and  that 
neither  fear  nor  any  other  respect 
should  make  him  go  against  his  con- 
science.  .   .   . 

The  bill  for  continuance  of  the  par- 
liament was  brought  into  the  house  the 
next  morning  after  it  was  propounded. 
.  .  .  This  bill,  and  the  act  of  attainder, 
being  both  passed  by  the  commons,  a 
conference  was  had  with  the  lords  after 


they  had  passed  them  ;  and  a  message 
sent  by  some  lords  to  the  king,  to  en- 
treat his  answer,  who  promised  to 
satisfy  them  within  two  days. 

The  king  being  much  perplexed 
upon  the  tendering  of  these  two  bills 
to  him,  between  the  clamours  of  a  dis- 
contented people  and  an  unsatisfied 
conscience ;  he  took  advice  (as  some 
reported)  of  several  of  the  bishops, 
and  of  others  his  intimate  councillors, 
what  to  do  in  this  intricate  affair ;  and 
that  the  major  part  of  them  urged  to 
him  the  opinions  of  the  judges,  that 
this  was  treason,  and  the  bill  legal. 

They  pressed  likewise  the  votes  of  the 
parliament,  that  he  was  but  one  man, 
that  no  other  expedient  could  be  found 
out  to  appease  the  enraged  people,  and 
that  the  consequences  of  a  furious  mul- 
titude would  be  very  terrible. 

Upon  all  which  they  persuaded  him 
to  pass  the  bills. 

But  the  chief  motive  was  said  to  be 
a  letter  of  the  Earl  of  Strafford,  then 
sent  unto  him,  wherein  the  gallant  earl 
takes  notice  of  these  things,  and  what 
is  best  for  his  majesty  in  these  straits, 
and  to  set  his  conscience  at  liberty : 
he  doth  most  humbly  beseech  him  for 
prevention  of  such  mischief  as  may 
happen  by  his  refusal  to  pass  the  bill, 
to  remove  him  out  of  the  way, 
"towards  that  blessed  agreement 
which  God,  I  trust,  shall  forever  estab- 
lish betwixt  you  and  your  subjects. 
Sir,  my  consent  herein  shall  more  ac- 
quit you  to  God,  than  all  the  world  can 
do  besides  :  to  a  willing  man  there  is 
no  injury  done." 

If  not  base  betraying  of  their  master 
by  these  passages,  and  by  some  private 
dealings,  the  king  was  persuaded  to 
sign  a  commission  to  three  lords  to  pass 
these  two  bills ;  and  that  he  should 
ever  be  brought  to  it  was  admired 
[wondered  at]  by  most  of  his  subjects, 
as  well  as  by  foreigners. 


82 


Charles  I. 


After  he  had  signed  these  bills,  the 
king  sent  secretary  Carleton  to  the  earl 
.  .  .  who  seriously  asked  the  secretary 
whether  his  majesty  had  passed  the  bill 
or  not ;  as  not  believing  without  some 
astonishment  that  the  king  would  have 
done  it. 

And  being  assured  that  it  was  passed, 
he  rose  up  from  his  chair,  lift  up  his 
eyes  to  Heaven,  laid  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  and  said,  Put  not  your  trust  in 
princes,  nor  in  the  sons  of  men,  for  in 
them  there  is  no  salvation.  .  .  .  He 
made  on  the  scaffold  a  most  ingenious, 
charitable,  and  pious  speech  and  pray- 
ers .  .  .  and  died  with  charity,  cour- 
age, and  general  lamentation.   .... 


ernment,  and  deprive  the  king  of  his 
legal  power,  and  to  place  on  subjects 
an  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  power,  by 
foul  aspersions  on  his  majesty  and  his 
government,  to  alienate  the  affections 
of  his  people,  and  to  make  him  odious." 


13.  Extract  from  Whitelocke  (The 
Five  Members),  1641. 

The  king  being  informed  that  some 
members  of  parliament  had  private 
meetings,  and  a  correspondence  with 
the  Scots,  and  countenanced  the  late 
tumults  from  the  city,  he  gave  a  warrant 
to  repair  to  their  lodgings,  and  to  seal 
up  the  trunks,  studies  and  chambers  of 
the  lord  Kimbolton,  Mr.  Pym,  Mr. 
Hampden,  Mr.  Hollis,  sir  Arthur  Hasle- 
rigge,  and  Mr.  Stroud ;  which  was 
done.  The  house  of  commons  having 
notice  hereof  whilst  it  was  in  doing, 
Jan.  3rd,  1641,  they  passed  this  vote: 
.  .  .  "that  if  any  person  whatsoever 
shall  offer  to  arrest  or  detain  the  person 
of  any  member  without  first  acquaint- 
ing this  house,  that  it  is  lawful  for  such 
member,  or  any  person  to  assist  him, 
and  to  stand  upon  his  or  their  guard 
of  defence,  and  to  make  a  resistance, 
according  to  the  protestation  taken  to 
defend  the  privileges  of  parliament." 

The  king  being  put  to  it,  caused 
articles  of  high  treason  and  other  mis- 
demeanors to  be  prepared  against  those 
five  members,  "For  endeavouring  to 
subvert  the  fundamental  laws  and  gov- 


14.  Extract  from  Nehemiah  Wel- 
lington. (Lond.,  1870.  Vol.  I.  p.  282 
ff.) 

4th  of  January,  Tuesday,  the  House 
of  Commons  meeting  there  was  a  Re- 
port made  to  the  House,  that  his 
Majesty  would  be  there  that  afternoon, 
to  give  answer  to  their  petition  delivered 
the  night  before. 

About  two  of  the  clock  his  Majesty 
came  into  the  House  of  Commons,  and 
the  Speaker  rising  out  of  his  place, 
he  sat  therein  ;  and  demanding  of  his 
prisoners,  Mr.  Pym,  Mr.  Hollis,  and 
so  the  rest,  who  were  not  there  to  be 
found,  he  made  a  short  speech,  com- 
manding the  House  to  send  them  to 
him  so  soon  as  they  came,  otherwise  he 
would  take  them  where  he  found  them, 
and  wished  them  to  proceed  in  their 
affairs,  without  any  fear  of  his  con- 
cordancy  with  them  to  all  their  just 
requests,  or  words  to  that  effect.  So 
demanding  his  prisoners  again,  he  left 
the  House.    .   .   . 

A  great  deliverance  (of  us  all,  but 
especially)  of  those  Five  dear  Servants 
of  God  and  worthy  members  of  the 
House  of  Commons  :  Mr.  Denzil  Hol- 
lis, Sir  Arthur  Haslerigg,  Mr.  John 
Pym,  Mr.  John  Hampden,  and  Mr. 
William  Stroud.  O  let  this  great 
Mercy  of  our  God,  on  this  day,  the  4th 
of  January  1642,  never  be  forgotten  to 
the  world's  end.  But  tell  it  to  your 
children,  that  they  may  tell  it  to  their 
children,  how  God  did  miraculously 
deliver  his  servants  on  the  4th  of  Janu- 
ary, being  Tuesday,  1642 ;  how  that 
"  many     soldiers,     and     papists,     and 


Charles  I. 


83 


others,  to  the  number  of  five  hundred, 
came  with  his  Majesty  to  the  said 
House  of  Commons,  armed  with 
swords,  pistols  and  other  weapons, 
and  divers  of  them  pressed  to  the  door 
of  the  said  House,  thrust  away  the 
door-keepers,  and  placed  themselves 
between  the  said  door,  and  the  ordinary 
attendances  of  his  Majesty  :  holding  up 
their  swords,  and  some  holding  up 
their  pistols  ready  cocked  near  the  said 
door,  and  saying, '  I  am  a  good  Marks- 
man, I  can  hit  right,  I  warrant  you  ; ' 
and  they  not  suffering  the  said  door, 
according  to  the  custom  of  Parliament, 
to  be  shut ;  but  said  they  would  have 
the  door  open,  and  if  any  opposition 
were  against  them,  they  made  no  ques- 
tion but  they  should  make  their  party 
good,  and  that  they  would  maintain 
their  party,  and  when  several  Members 
of  the  House  of  Commons  were  com- 
ing into  the  House,  their  attendants 
desiring  that  room  might  be  made  for 
them ;  some  of  the  said  soldiers  an- 
swered, '  Let  them  come  and  be  hanged, 
what  ado  is  here  with  the  House  of 
Commons ; '  and  some  of  the  said  sol- 
diers did  likewise  violently  assault,  and 
by  force  disarm,  some  of  the  Attend- 
ants and  Servants  of  the  Members  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  waiting  in  the 
room  next  the  said  House ;  and  upon 
the  King's  return  out  of  the  said  House, 
many  of  them  by  wicked  oaths,  and 
otherwise,  expressed  much  discontent 
that  some  Members  of  the  said  House, 
for  whom  they  came,  were  not  there. 
And  others  of  them  said,  When  comes 
the  word  ?  And  no  word  being  given 
at  his  Majesty's  coming  out,  they  cried 
•  A  lane  ;  a  lane  ; '  afterwards  some  of 
them  being  demanded,  what  they 
thought  the  said  company  intended  to 
have  done,  answered,  That,  question- 
less, in  the  posture  they  were  set,  if  the 
word  had  been  given,  they  should  have 
fallen  upon  the   House  of  Commons, 


and  have  cut  all  their  throats  ;  upon  all 
which  we  are  of  opinion  that  it  is  suffi- 
ciently proved  that  the  coming  of  the 
said  soldiers,  papists  and  others,  with 
his  Majesty  to  the  House  of  Commons 
on  Tuesday  the  4th  of  January,  in  the 
manner  aforesaid,  was  to  take  away 
some  of  the  members  of  the  said  House, 
and  if  they  should  have  found  opposi- 
tion, or  denial,  then  to  have  fallen  upon 
the  said  House  in  a  hostile  manner : 
And  we  do  hereby  declare  that  the 
same  was  a  traitorous  design  against 
the  King  and  Parliament.  And  whereas 
the  said  Mr.  Hollis,  Sir  Arthur  Hasle- 
rigg,  Mr.  Pym,  Mr.  Hampden,  and 
Mr.  Strode,  upon  the  report  of  the 
coming  of  the  said  soldiers  .  .  .  did, 
with  the  approbation  of  the  House, 
absent  themselves  from  the  service  of 
the  House,  for  the  avoiding  the  great 
and  many  inconveniences,  which  other- 
wise apparently  might  have  happened  : 
Since  which  time  a  printed  paper  in 
the  form  of  a  proclamation  hath  issued 
out  for  the  apprehending  and  imprison- 
ing of  them,  therein  suggesting  that 
through  the  conscience  of  their  own 
guilt  they  were  absent  and  fled,  not 
willing  to  submit  themselves  to  justice  : 
We  do  further  declare  that  the  said 
printed  paper  is  false  and  scandalous 
and  illegal."    .   .   . 

On  Thursday  the  6th  of  January,  the 
Committees  of  both  houses  met  at 
Guild  Hall.   .   .   . 

This  Thursday  night  being  the  6th 
of  January,  I  desire  might  never  be 
forgotten.  For  in  the  dead  time  of  the 
night  there  was  great  bouncing  at  every 
man's  door  to  be  up  in  their  arms  pres- 
ently, and  to  stand  on  his  guard,  both 
in  the  City  and  Suburbs,  for  we  heard 
(as  we  lay  in  our  beds)  a  great  cry  in 
the  streets  that  there  were  horse  and 
foot  coming  against  the  city.  So  the 
gates  were  shut,  and  the  cullisses  let 
down,  and  the  chains  put    across  the 


84 


Charles  I 


corners  of  our  streets,  and  every  man 
ready  on  his  arms.  And  women  and 
children  did  then  arise,  and  fear  and 
trembling  entered  on  all.  And  some 
took  such  fright  that  night  that  it  cost 
them  their  lives;  as  Alderman  Adams 
his  wife,  my  neighbour,  she  took  such 
a  fright  that  night  that  she  died  of  it 
the  next  Tuesday  at  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  And  although  some  might 
slight,  jest,  and  scoff  at  this,  and  think 
and  say  there  was  no  cause,  and  that 
we  were  more  fright  than  hurt;  yet  it 
is  certain  enough,  that  had  not  the 
Lord  of  His  mercy  stirred  us  up  to 
bestir  ourselves,  it  would  have  gone 
hard  enough  with  us.  Again  there  was 
great  cause  of  fear,  being  but  a  day  or 
two  since  the  King  in  a  rage  went  with 
his  five  hundred  soldiers  with  their  pis- 
tols and  swords,  intending  death  to 
those  five  good  men  (Mr.  Pym  etc.) 
.  .  .  and  the  King  having  hundreds  of 
soldiers  out  of  the  north,  of  a  fierce 
countenance,  skilful  to  destroy ;  and  I 
heard  of  deadly  weapons  newly  made, 
which  were  to  be  struck  into  the  body, 
and  could  not  be  pulled  out  again.  .  .  . 


15.  Extracts  from  Whitelocke. 

Great  numbers  of  people  gathered 
together  in  a  very  tumultuous  manner 
about  Whitehall  and  Westminster ;  and 
it  was  a  dismal  thing  to  all  sober  men, 
especially  members  of  parliament,  to 
see  and  hear  them. 

The  king  fearing  danger  from  them, 
or  perhaps  by  the  unfortunate  counsel 
of  papists  as  some  reported,  thought 
fit  to  remove  to   Hampton  Court,  and 


took   with  him  the  queen,  prince,  and 
duke  of  York.   .   .   . 

The  next -day  the  five  members  were 
triumphantly  brought  from  London  to 
Westminster  by  water,  by  a  great  num- 
ber of  citizens  and  seamen  in  boats  and 
barges,  with  guns  and  flags,  braving  as 
they  passed  by  Whitehall,  and  making 
large  protestations  at  Westminster  of 
their  adherence  to  the  parliament.   .   .   . 

The  parliament  were  busy  in  debates 
touching  the  ordering  of  the  militia  for 
the  several  counties ;  in  which  some 
declared  their  opinions  that  the  power 
of  the  militia  was  solely  in  the  king, 
and  ought  to  be  left  to  him  .  .  .  others 
were  of  the  opinion  that  the  king  had 
not  this  power  in  him,  but  that  it  was 
solely  in  the  parliament,  and  that  if  the 
king  refused  to  order  the  same  accord- 
ing to  the  advice  of  the  parliament, 
that  then  they  by  law  might  do  it  with- 
out him  :  and  this  was  moved  to  be 
now  done  by  the  parliament.   .   .   . 

Then  they  ordain  the  power  of  the 
militia,  for  defence  of  the  parliament, 
Tower,  and  city  of  London.   .   .   . 

Aug.  22.  The  king  at  Nottingham 
erects  his  standard.  .  .  .  The  earl  of 
Essex's  colours  was  a  deep  yellow, 
others  setting  up  another  colour  were 
held  malignants,  and  ill-affected  to  the 
parliament's  cause.   .   .   . 

About  the  beginning  of  November 
the  two  princes  palatine,  Rupert  and 
Maurice,  arrived  in  England,  and  weie 
put  into  command  in  the  army  of  the 
king  their  uncle ;  who  had  now  got 
together  a  potent  army. 

[Civil  War.] 


Sm^PRINCXPf  RVTSRT,  DKI   G^RA  COMES    TalATINj  RhENI, 

Cjv  IDorna  clritorah  JOtiix  Jj> au ariie    etc.  Jvu bitiflirtiL-       p-rdim* 


r&rhPccltilts       cuirete,     (L,£ru£,i     dto 


Charles  I. 


85 


GROUP   XI. 

TRIAL   AND    EXECUTION    OF    CHARLES    I. 


i.   Extracts  from  Whitelocke,  1648- 

9  A.  D. 

.  .  .  This  morning  Sir  Thomas  Wid- 
drington and  I  being  together,  Mr. 
Smith,  who  was  clerk  to  the  committee 
for  preparing  the  charge  against  the 
king,  came  to  us  with  a  message  from 
the  committee,  that  they  required  us  to 
come  to  them  this  day,  they  having 
some  matters  of  importance  wherein 
they  desired  our  advice  and  assistance  ; 
and  that  we  must  not  fail  them. 

I  knew  what  the  business  was,  and 
I  told  sir  Thomas  Widdrington  that  I 
was  resolved  not  to  meddle  in  that  busi- 
ness about  the  trial  of  the  king;  it 
being  contrary  to  my  judgment,  as  I 
had  declared  myself  in  the  house. 

Sir  Thomas  Widdrington  said  he  was 
of  the  same  judgment,  and  would  have 
no  hand  in  that  business,  but  he  knew 
not  whither  to  go  to  be  out  of  the  way, 
and  that  the  committee  might  not  know 
whither  to  send  to  him. 

I  replied,  that  my  coach  was  ready, 
and  I  was  this  morning  going  out  of 
town  purposely  to  avoid  this  business, 
and  if  he  pleased  to  go  with  me  we 
might  be  quiet  at  my  house  in  the 
country.   .   .   . 

The  council  of  war  ordered,  that 
nothing  be  done  upon  the  knee  to  the 
king,  and  that  all  ceremonies  of  state 
to  him  be  left  off,  and  his  attendance  to 
be  with  fewer  and  at  less  charge.  .   .   . 

The  committee  for  drawing  up  a 
charge  against  the  king,  and  to  con- 
sider of  the  manner  of  his  trial,  re- 
ported an  ordinance  for  attainting  the 
king  of  high  treason.  .  .  .  The  charge 
was  to  this  effect : 

That  Charles  Stuart  had  acted  con- 
trary to  his  trust,  in  departing  from  the 
parliament,  setting  up  his  standard, 
making  a  war  against  them,  and  there- 
by been  the  occasion  of    much  blood- 


shed and  misery  to  the  people  whom 
he  was  set  over  for  good  ;  that  he  gave 
commissions  to  Irish  rebels,  and  since 
was  the  occasion  of  a  second  war,  and 
had  done  contrary  to  the  liberties  of 
the  subject,  and  tending  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  fundamental  laws  and  liber- 
ties of  this  kingdom.   .   .   . 

This  vote  was  passed  as  a  foundation 
for  these  proceedings : 

That  the  lords  and  commons  as- 
sembled in  parliament,  do  declare  and 
adjudge,  that  by  the  fundamental  laws 
of  this  realm,  it  is  treason  in  the  king 
of  England  for  the  time  to  come,  to 
levy  war  against  the  parliament  and 
kingdom  of  England.   .   .   . 

The  ordinance  for  trial  of  the  king 
was  carried  up  to  the  lords,  of  whom 
sixteen  then  sat :  they  stuck  much  upon 
the  declaratory  vote,  That  it  was 
treason  in  the  king  to  levy  war  against 
the  parliament.  .  .  .  The  commons 
taking  notice  that  the  lords  had  rejected 
their  ordinance  for  trial  of  the  king, 
and  had  adjourned  their  house,  they 
sent  some  of  their  members  to  examine 
the  lords'  journal  book,  and  they  re- 
ported to  the  commons  three  votes 
passed  by  the  lords  : 

1.  To  6end  answer  by  messengers  of  their 
own. 

2.  That  their  lordships  did  not  concur  to 
the  declaration. 

3.  That  they  had  rejected  the  ordinance  for 
trial  of  the  king. 

Hereupon  the  commons  voted, 
That  all  their  members  and  others  ap- 
pointed to  act  in  any  ordinance  wherein  the 
lords  are  joined  with  them,  shall  be  em- 
powered and  enjoined  to  sit,  act,  and  execute 
in  the  said  several  committees  of  themselves, 
notwithstanding  the  house  of  peers  join  not 
with  them. 

Order  that  the  ordinance  for  trial  of  the 
king,  and  the  declaration  from  which  the 
lords  dissented,  and  which  are  intended  for 
both  houses,  shall  now  be  by  the  commons 
only.  .  .  . 


86 


Charles  I. 


The  commissioners  for  trial  of  the 
king  met,  and  chose  sergeant  Bradshaw 
for  their  president,  Mr.  Steel  to  be 
attorney  general,  Mr.  Coke  solicitor- 
general,  and  they  with  Dr.  Dorislaus 
and  Mr.  Aske  to  draw  up  and  manage 
the  charge  against  the  king.    .   .   . 

The  high  court  of  justice  sat  in  the 
place  in  Westminster-hall  made  for 
them,  the  president  had  the  sword  and 
mace  carried  before  him,  and  twenty 
gentlemen  attended  as  his  guard.   .   .    . 

After  an  Oyes,  and  silence  made,  the 
act  of  the  commons  of  England  for 
sitting  of  the  court  was  read,  and  the 
court  was  called,  sixty  of  the  mem- 
bers appeared. 

The  king  was  brought  from  St. 
James's  to  Whitehall,  and  from  thence 
by  water,  guarded  with  musketeers  in 
boats.   .   .   . 

He  was  charged  in  the  name  of 
Charles  Stuart  king  of  England, 
as  guilty  of  all  the  blood  that  had  been 
shed  at  Kenton,  Brentford,  Newbury 
and  other  places  .  .  .  and  other  par- 
ticulars very  large. 

The  king  smiled  at  the  reading  of 
his  charge,  and  after  it  was  read,  de- 
manded of  the  president  by  what  law- 
ful authority  he  was  brought  hither, 
and  being  answered,  In  the  name  of 
the  commons  of  England, 

He  replied  he  saw  no  lords  there 
which  should  make  a  parliament,  in- 
cluding the  king;  and  urged,  that  the 
kingdom  of  England  was  hereditary 
and  not  successive,  and  that  he  should 
betray  his  trust  if  he  acknowledged  or 
made  answer  to  them,  for  that  he  was 
not  convinced  that  they  were  a  lawful 
authority.   .   .   . 

(2nd  hearing.)  .  .  .  The  clerk  of 
the  court  read  this  aloud  : 

Charles  Stuart,  king  of  England,  you 
have  been  accused  on  the  behalf  of  the  peo- 
ple of  England  of  high  treason  and  other 
crimes;  the  court  have  determined  that  you 
ought  to  answer  the  same. 


King.  I  will  answer  the  same,  so  soon  as 
I  know  by  what  authority  you  do  this. 

President.  If  this  be  all  that  you  would 
say,  then,  gentlemen,  you  that  brought  the 
prisoner  hither,  take  charge  of  him  back 
again. 

King.  I  do  require  that  I  may  give  in  my 
reasons  why  I  do  not  answer,  and  give  me 
time  for  that. 

President.    It  is  not  for  prisoners  to  require. 

King.  Prisoners!  sir,  I  am  not  an  ordi- 
nary prisoner. 

President.  The  court  hath  considered  of 
their  jurisdiction;  and  they  have  already 
affirmed  their  jurisdiction;  if  you  will  not 
answer,  we  shall  give  order  to  record  your 
default. 

King.     You  never  heard  my  reasons  j'et. 

President.  Sir,  your  reasons  are  not  to  be 
heard  against  the  highest  jurisdiction. 

King.  Shew  me  what  jurisdiction,  where 
reason  is  not  to  be  heard. 

President.  Sir,  we  show  it  you  here,  the 
commons  of  England  ;  and  the  next  time  you 
are  brought,  you  will  know  more  of  the 
pleasure  of  the  court,  and,  it  may  be,  their 
final  determination. 

King.  Show  me  wherever  the  house  of 
commons  were  a  court  of  judicature  of  that 
kind. 

President.  Sergeant,  take  away  the  pris- 
oner. 

King.  Well,  sir,  remember  that  the  king 
is  not  suffered  to  give  in  his  reasons  for  the 
liberty  and  freedom  of  all  his  subjects. 

President.  Sir,  you  are  not  to  have  liberty 
to  use  this  language  ;  how  great  a  friend  you 
have  been  to  the  laws  and  liberties  of  the 
people,  let  all  England  and  the  world  judge. 

King.  Sir,  under  favour,  it  was  the  lib- 
erty, freedom  and  laws  of  the  subject  that 
ever  I  took  to  defend  myself  with  arms;  I 
never  took  up  arms  against  the  people,  but 
for  the  laws. 

President.  The  command  of  the  court 
must  be  obeyed,  no  answer  will  be  given  to 
the  charge. 

King.     Well,  sir.   .   .   . 

[3rd  hearing  ]  President.  Sir,  this  is  the 
third  time  that  you  have  publicly  disavowed 
this  court,  and  put  an  affront  upon  it;  but 
how  far  you  have  preserved  the  liberties  of 
the  people,  your  actions  have  spoke  it;  but 
truly,  sir,  men's  intentions  ought  to  be 
known  by  their  actions ;  you  have  written 
your  meaning  in  bloody  characters  through- 
out the  kingdom.  But,  sir,  you  understand 
the  pleasure  of  the  court.     Clerk,  record  the 


Charles  I, 


87 


default.  And,  gentlemen,  you  that  took  the 
charge  of  the  prisoner,  take  him  back  again. 

King.  I  will  say  this  one  word  more  to 
you,  if  it  were  my  own  particular,  I  would 
not  say  any  more  to  interrupt  you. 

President.  Sir,  you  have  heard  the  pleas- 
ure of  the  court,  and  you  are  (notwithstand- 
ing you  will  not  understand  it)  to  find  that 
you  are  before  a  court  of  justice.  .  .  . 

Jan.  27,  1648-9. 

The  high  court  of  justice  sat  in 
Westminster  Hall,  the  president  in  his 
scarlet  robe,  and  many  of  the  commis- 
sioners in  their  best  habit. 

After  the  calling  of  the  court,  the 
king  came  in,  in  his  wonted  posture, 
with  his  hat  on  ;  as  he  passed  by  in  the 
hall,  a  cry  was  made,  Justice,  justice  ! 
Execution,  execution !  This  was  by 
some  soldiers  and  others  of  the  rabble. 

After  this  the  clerk  was  commanded 
to  read  the  sentence,  which  recited  the 
charge,  and  the  several  crimes  of  which 
he  had  been  found  guilty  : 

For  all  which  treasons  and  crimes, 
the  court  did  adjudge,  that  he  the  said 
Charles  Stuart,  as  a  tyrant,  traitor, 
murderer,  and  public  enemy,  shall  be 
put  to  death  by  the  severing  of  his 
head  from  his  body. 

The  king  then  desired  to  be  heard,- 
but  it  would  not  be  permitted,  being 
after  sentence ;  and  as  he  returned 
through  the  hall,  there  was  another  cry 
for  Justice  and  Execution.  Here  we 
may  take  notice  of  the  abject  baseness 
of  some  vulgar  spirits,  who,  seeing  their 
king  in  that  condition,  endeavoured,  in 
their  small  capacity,  further  to  promote 
his  misery,  that  they  might  a  little  curry 
favour  with  the  present  powers,  and  pick 
thanks  of  their  then  superiors.   .   .   . 

A  prince  is  not  exempt  from  the 
venom  of  these  mad  dogs.   .   .   . 

I  was  much  troubled  at  the  passing 
of  sentence  of  death  against  the  king, 
and  heartily  prayed  that  it  might  not 
be  executed.   .   .   . 


The  king's  children  came  from  Sion- 
house  to  visit  him  at  St.  James's ;  he 
took  the  princess  in  his  arms,  and 
kissed  her,  and  gave  her  two  seals  with 
diamonds,  and  prayed  for  the  blessing 
of  God  upon  her  and  the  rest  of  his 
children  ;  and  there  was  great  weeping. 


2.  Extracts  from  Warwick,  Memoirs 
of  the  Reign  of  Charles  I.  Second 
Edition.     Lond.,    1702,  p.   336  ff. 

By  this  traiterous  and  tumultuous 
body  (the  Commons)  the  King  is 
brought  to  his  tryall  and  removed  from 
Windsor  to  St.  James's  and  from  thence 
soon  brought  to  Westminster  Hall : 
where  he  finds  a  pretended  High  Court 
of  Justice,  consisting  of  a  President,  one 
Bradshaw  (heretofore  a  very  meanly 
qualified  lawyer,  but  a  bold  and  seditious 
person)  and  of  Cromwell  and  most  of 
his  cheife  officers,  and  some  of  the 
King's  own  faithless  servants,  as  Sir 
Henry  Mildmay,  the  Lord  Mounson, 
Sir  John  Danvers,  and  Cornelius  Hol- 
land (one  that  had  been  Clerk  of  his 
kitchen,  and  was  then  of  the  Green- 
Cloth)  the  rest  high-flown  Parliament- 
men.  These  to  make  their  proceedings 
the  more  solemn,  made  their  Serjeant  at 
Armes  in  Westminster  Hall,  the  old 
Exchange,  etc.,  to  summon  in  any 
person,  that  would  come  and  accuse  the 
King :  and  then  they  break  his  great 
Seal,  and  make  one  of  their  own, 
impressing  upon  it  the  Cross  for  Eng- 
land and  the  Harp  for  Ireland  on  the 
one  side,  and  the  House  of  Commons, 
as  the  true  sovereigns  of  this  nation  on 
the  other :  and  these  words  about  it : 
The  jirst  yeare  of  Freedome,  etc., 
1648.  Before  this  sort  of  vile  men  this 
good  prince  is  brought :  and  injustice 
must  necessarily  sit  on  the  bench,  when 
justice  is  dragged  to  the  barr.  The 
insolent  President  bids  the  King  hearken 
to  his  charge,  and  a  babbling  and  brazen- 


88 


Charles  I. 


faced  Sollicitor,  one  Cook,  accuseth  him 
in  the  name  of  the  Commons  of  Eng- 
land, and  of  all  the  people  thereof 
(which  God  knows  was  not  one  of  a 
thousand)  of  treason :  charging  him 
that  by  a  tyrannical}  power  he  had 
endeavoured  to  overthiow  the  rights  and 
liberties  of  this  people,  and  to  defend 
himselfe  in  his  traiterous  practice,  he 
had  maliciously  levied  a  wane.  .  .  . 
The  King  smiled  at  the  foule  appella- 
tions of  Tyrant,  Traitor,  etc.  ...  as 
their  Sovereign  and  King,  he  denied  any 
authority  to  be  over  him.   .   .   . 

But  after  all,  these  nefarious  men, 
who  thirsted  after  the  King's  blood, 
would  now  brutishly  suck  it :  so  then 
give  sentence  upon  him  to  sever  his 
head  from  his  body,  which  sentence 
passed  on  Saturday,  January,  1648  ;  and 
he  is  carried  back  by  his  Guard  unto  St. 
James's.  In  the  passage  to  his  tryall, 
he  is  mett  and  reviled  by  some,  and 
tobacco  blown  in  his  mouth,  and  his 
face  spitt  upon  by  others.  One  honest 
soldier  said  but  "God  bless  you,  Sir," 
and  his  Captain  caned  him  ;  the  King 
told  the  Captain  the  punishment  ex- 
ceeded the  offence.  About  the  barr  a 
numerous  rabble  cry  out  for  justice 
against  him,  and  in  the  Court  he  is 
saucily  treated  by  all  the  Officers. 

The  King's  deportment  was  very 
majestick  and  steady ;  and  tho'  his 
tongue  usually  hesitated,  yet  it  was  very 
free  at  this  time,  for  he  was  never  dis- 
composed in  mind.  And  yet  as  he  con- 
fest  himself  to  the  Bishop  of  London, 
that  attended  him,  one  action  shockt 
him  very  much  :  for  whilst  he  was  lean- 
ing in  the  Court  upon  his  staff,  which 
had  an  head  of  gold,  the  head  broke  off 
on  a  sudden ;  he  took  it  up,  but  seemed 
unconcerned ;  yet  told  the  Bishop,  It 
really  made  a  great  impression  upon 
him,  and  to  this  hour  (sayes  he)  I  know 
not  possibly  how  it  should  come.  T' was 
an  accident,  I  confess,  I  myselfe  have 


often  thought  on,  and  cannot  imagine 
how  it  came  about :  unless  Hugh  Peters 
(who  was  truly  and  really  his  Gaoler, 
for  at  St.  James  nobody  went  to  him, 
but  by  Peters' s  leave)  had  artificially 
tampered  upon  his  staff ;  but  such  con- 
jectures are  of  no  use. 

.  .  .  He  required  Mr.  Herbert,  (a 
Gentleman  who  was  appointed  to  attend 
him,  and  who  had  bin  very  civill  to 
him  and  whom  he  recommended  like- 
wise to  the  present  King)  to  call  him  at 
four  of  the  clock  in  the  morning ;  and 
Mr.  Herbert  slept  little  himselfe,  lying 
by  him  on  a  pallet-bed  ;  but  observed 
through  the  whole  night,  that  the  King 
slept  very  soundly,  and  at  his  hour 
awak'd  himself,  and  drew  his  curtain. 
He  soon  got  up,  was  about  an  hour  at 
his  own  private  devotions,  and  then 
called  to  be  drest ;  and  Mr.  Herbert, 
who  was  wont  to  comb  his  head,  combed 
it  that  morning  with  less  care  than 
usually :  Prethee  (says  he)  tho'  it  be 
not  long  to  stand  on  my  shoulders,  take 
the  same  paines  with  it,  you  were  wont 
to  do  :  "I  am  to  be  a  Bridegroom  to-day 
and  must  be  trimm." 

Extract  from  Herbert's  Memoirs. 
(London,  1815,  p.  183.) 

The  King  commanded  Mr.  Herbert 
to  lie  by  his  Bedside  upon  a  Pallat, 
where  he  took  small  rest,  that  being  the 
last  Night  his  Gracious  Sovereign  and 
Master  enjoy'  d ;  but  nevertheless  the 
King  for  Four  Hours  or  thereabouts, 
slept  soundly,  and  awaking  about  Two 
Hours  afore  day,  he  opened  his  curtain 
to  call  Mr.  Herbert ;  there  being  a  great 
Cake  of  Wax  set  in  a  Silver  Bason,  that 
then  as  at  all  other  times,  burned  all 
night;  so  that  he  perceiv'd  him  some- 
what disturb' d  in  sleep,  but  calling  him, 
bad  him  rise;  For,  (said  his  Majesty)  I 
will  get  up,  having  a  great  Work  to  do 
this  Day;  .  .  .  He  then  appointed  what 
Cloaths  he  would  wear;  "Let  me  have 


Charles  I 


89 


a  Shirt  011  more  than  ordinary,"  said  the 
King,  "by  reason  the  season  is  so  sharp 
as  probably  may  make  me  shake,  which 
some  Observers  will  imagine  proceeds 
from  fear.  I  would  have  no  such 
Imputation.  I  fear  not  Death.  Death 
is  not  terrible  to  me.  I  bless  my  soul  I 
am  prepared."  .   .   . 

Warwick's  Memoirs,  Continued. 

When  he  was  called,  he  marcht  to 
the  scaffold ;  and  a  Gentleman  of  my 
acquaintance,  that  had  so  placed  him- 
self in  Wallingfordhouse,  that  he  could 
easily  discern  all  that  was  done  upon  the 
scaffold,  protested  to  me,  he  saw  him 
come  out  of  the  Banquetting-house  on 
the  scaffold  with  the  same  unconcern- 
ednes  and  motion,  that  he  usually  had 
when  he  entered  into  it  on  a  Masque- 
night.  And  another  Gentleman,  whom 
Fie  name,  Dr.  Farrar,  a  Physician  (a 
man  of  a  pious  heart,  but  phancifull 
brain  :  for  this  was  he  that  would  have 
had  the  King  and  Parliament  have 
decided  their  business  by  lot)  had 
gained  such  a  place  upon  the  stage,  that 
he  assured  me,  that  as  he  had  observed 
him  before  very  majestick  and  steddy ; 
so  when  he  had  laid  down  his  neck 
upon  the  block,  he  standing  at  some  dis- 
tance from  him  in  a  right  line,  he  per- 
ceived his  eye  as  quick  and  lively  as 
ever  he  had  seen  it.   .   .   . 


3.  Extract  from  Whitelocke. 

Divers  companies  of  foot  and  horse 
were  on  every  side  of  the  scaffold,  and 
great  multitudes  of  people  came  to  be 
spectators :  the  king  looked  earnestly 
on  the  block,  asked  if  there  were  no 
place  higher,  and,  directing  his  speech 
to  the  gentlemen  upon  the  scaffold,  he 
spake  to  this  effect :   [at  great  length.] 

Then  turning  to  the  officers  he  said, 
Sirs,   excuse   me   for  this  same;  I  have  a 

good   cau-e,  and   I  have  a   gracious    God :  I 

will  B-iy  no  more. 


Then  turning  to  colonel  Hacker,  he 
said, 

Take  care  that  they  do  not  put  me  to  pain, 
and,  sir,  this,  and  it  please  you. 

Then  a  gentlemen  coming  near  the 
axe,  the  king  said, 

Take  heed  of  the  axe,  pray  take  heed  of  the 
axe. 

Then  he  said  to  the  executioner, 

I  shall  say  but  very  short  prayers,  and 
then  thrust  out  my  hands. 

Two  men  in  disguise  and  vizors  stood 
upon  the  scaffold  for  executioners. 

Then  the  king  called  to  Dr.  Juxon 
for  his  night-cap,  and  having  put  it  on, 
he  said  to  the  executioner,  4t  Does  my 
hair  trouble  you?"  He  desired  it 
might  all  be  put  under  the  cap,  which 
the  king  did  accordingly,  by  the  help 
of  the  executioner  and  the  bishop. 

Then  the  king  turning  to  Dr.  Juxon 
said, 

I  have  a  good  cause  and  a  gracious  God  on 
my  side 

Dr.  Juxon.  There  is  but  one  stage  more, 
this  stage  is  turbulent  and  troublesome,  it  is 
a  short  one,  but  you  may  consider  it  will  soon 
carry  you  a  very  great  way,  it  will  carry  you 
from  earth  to  heaven,  and  there  you  shall 
find  a  great  deal  of  cordial  joy  and  comfort. 

King.  I  go  from  a  corruptible  to  an  in- 
corruptible crown,  where  no  disturbance  can 
be. 

Dr.  Juxon.  You  are  exchanged  from  a 
temporal  to  an  eternal  crown,  a  good  ex- 
change. 

Then  the  king  took  off  his  cloak  and 
his  george,  which  he  gave  to  Dr.  Juxon, 
saying,  Remember.  Some  other  small 
ceremonies  were  passed,  after  which 
the  king  stooping  down  laid  his  neck 
upon  the  block,  and  after  a  very  little 
pause,  stretching  forth  his  hands,  the 
executioner  at  one  blow  severed  his 
head  from  his  body. 

The  king  died  with  true  magnanim- 
ity and  Christian  patience ;  his  body 
was  put  in  a  coffin,  covered  with  black 
velvet,  and  removed  to  his  lodging 
chamber  in  Whitehall.      At  this  scene 


9° 


Charles   I. 


were  many  sighs  and  weeping  eyes, 
and  divers  strove  to  dip  their  handker- 
chiefs in  his  blood,  as  in  the  blood  of  a 
martyr. 

Extract  from  John  Milton.  (Quoted 
in  Harris,  Charles  I.,  p.  484.) 

If  you  say  that  Charles  died  as  he 
lived,  I  agree  with  you :  if  you  say 
that  he  died  piously,  holily,  and  at 
ease,  you  may  remember  that  his  grand- 
mother Mary,  an  infamous  woman, 
died  on  a  scaffold  with  as  much  out- 
ward appearance  of  piety,  sanctity,  and 
constancy  as  he  did.  And  lest  you 
should  ascribe  too  much  to  that  pres- 
ence of  mind,  which  some  common 
malefactors  have  so  great  a  measure  of 
at  their  death,  many  times  despair,  and 
a  hardened  heart  putting  on,  as  it  were, 
a  vizor  of  courage,  and  stupidity  a 
shew  of  quiet  and  tranquillity  of  mind  : 
sometimes  the  worst  of  men  desire  to 
appear  good,  undaunted,  innocent,  and 
now  and  then  religious,  not  only  in 
their  life  but  at  their  death ;  and  in  suf- 
fering death  for  their  villanies  are  wont 
to  act  the  last  part  of  their  hypocrisy 
and  cheats  with  all  the  show  imagin- 
able ;  and  like  bad  poets,  or  stage- 
players,  are  very  ambitious  of  being 
clapped  at  the  end  of  the  play. 


4.  Letter  from  Joseph  Kent,  at 
Venice,  to  another  Englishman  abroad. 
(In  Ellis,  Original  Letters.  London, 
1827.  Second  Series,  Vol.  III.  p. 
339-) 

Noble  Sir  :  I  humbly  beg  your  par- 
don for  my  last  weeks  silence,  for  I 
vow  to  God  I  was  so  strangely  sur- 
prised with  grief,  that  I  could  not  pre- 
vaile  with  my  troubled  minde  for  half 
an  hours  repose,  to  give  you  some  re- 
lation of  the  sad  and  unexemplary 
murther  of  our  Soveraign,  whose  soul 
is  at  rest. 


The  Antwerp  Post  came  this  morn- 
ing, but  without  any  Letters  from  our 
scandalous  Island.  I  will  impart  with 
you  what  I  have  learnt  from  thence 
and  Holland,  concerning  it.   .   .   . 

Gregory  the  ordinary  hangman  of 
London  wras  commanded  to  assist  to 
the  king's  death,  which  he  refused,  but 
to  invite  him  to  it  he  was  proffered 
two  hundred  pounds,  which  he  would 
not  hear  of ;  then  they  threatened  to 
burn  him,  and  at  last  imprisoned  him, 
because  he  would  not  consent  to  so 
great  a  wickedness ;  but  a  Judas  will 
never  be  wanting,  a  Collonel  formerly 
a  brazier  (to  the  great  dishonour  of 
the  noble  military  art)  with  his  servant 
a  minister,  both  masked  were  those 
who  cut  the  thread  of  His  Majestie's 
life,  and,  in  it,  his  loyal  subjects  hap- 
piness. A  rogue  of  a  minister,  after 
his  head  was  severed  from  his  sacred 
body,  elevated  it  publicly  to  the  people  ; 
and  which  is  more  inhuman,  its  written 
that  the  little  Duke  of  Gloucester  was 
placed  against  the  scaffold  to  see  his 
father  sacrificed.  .  .  .  My  humble  duty 
and  respects  to  noble  Sir  R.  Wyllis, 
and  all  the  other  gentlemen  of  the  na- 
tion, to  whom  I  know  you  will  impart 
this,  although  most  horrid  news.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Bayly  very  affectionately  salutes 
Sir  Richard  and  your  noble  self,  to 
whom  I  will  ever  continue, 
Noble  Sir, 
Your  most  affectionate  and  most 
humble  servant, 

Jos.  Kent. 
Venice  the  nth  Marche,  Thursday. 


5.  Letter  of  James  Howell  to  Sir 
William  Boswell.  (In  Howell's  Fa- 
miliar Letters,  London  1892,  Vol.  II. 
P-  552.) 

Sir,  That  black  Tragedy  which  was 
lately  acted  here,  as  it  hath  filled  most 
hearts  among  us  with  consternation  and 


Charles  I. 


9i 


horror,  so  I  believe  it  hath  been  no  less 
resented  abroad.  For  my  own  partic- 
ular, the  more  I  ruminate  upon  it,  the 
more  it  astonisheth  my  imagination, 
and  shaketh  all  the  cells  of  my  Brain  ; 
so  that  sometimes  I  struggle  with  my 
Faith,  and  have  much  ado  to  believe  it 
yet.  I  shall  give  over  wond'ring  at 
anything  hereafter,  nothing  shall  seem 
strange  unto  me ;  only  I  will  attend 
with  patience  how  England  will  thrive, 
now  that  she  is  let  blood  in  the  Basil- 
ical  Vein,  and  cur'd,  as  they  say,  of 
the  Xing'  s- Evil.    .    .   . 

Your  most  humble  servitor 


Fleet,  20  March,  1648. 


J.H. 


6.  Extracts  from  "The  Confession 
of  the  Hangman  concerning  His  be- 
heading his  late  Majesty  the  King  of 
Great  Brittain  (upon  his  Death  bed) 
who  was  buried  on  Thursday  last,  in 
white  Chappel  Churchyard,  with  the 
manner  thereof."  (In  Ellis,  ib.  p. 
341-) 

Upon  Wednesday  last  (being  the 
20th  of  this  instant  June,  1649,)  Rich- 
ard Brandon,  the  late  Executioner  and 
Hang-man,  who  beheaded  his  late 
Majesty,  King  of  Great  Brittain,  de- 
parted this  life  ;  but  during  the  time  of 
his  sicknesse,  his  conscience  was  much 
troubled,  and  exceedingly  perplexed  in 
mind,  yet  little  shew  of  repentance  for 
remission  of  his  sins  and  by-past  trans- 
gressions, which  had  so  much  power 
and  influence  upon  him,  that  he  seemed 
to  live  in  them,  and  they  in  him.  And 
on  Sunday  last,  a  young  man  of  his 
acquaintance  going  in  to  visit  him,  fell 
into  discourse,  asked  him  how  he  did, 
and  whether  he  was  not  troubled  in 
conscience  for  cutting  off  the  king's 
head.  He  replyed,  yes !  by  reason 
that  (upon  the  time  of  his  tryall,  and 
at  the  denouncing  of  Sentence  against 
him)  he  had  taken  a  vow  and  protesta- 


tion, wishing  God  to  perish  him  body 
and  soul,  if  ever  he  appeared  on  the 
Scaffold  to  do  the  act  or  lift  up  his 
hand  against  him. 

He  likewise  confessed  that  he  had 
thirty  pounds  for  his  pains,  all  paid 
him  in  half-crowns  within  an  hour 
after  the  blow  was  given  ;  and  that  he 
had  an  Orange  stuck  full  of  cloves,  and 
a  handkircher  out  of  the  king's  pocket, 
so  soon  as  he  was  carryed  off  from  the 
Scaffold,  for  which  Orange  he  was 
proffer' d  twenty  shillings  by  a  gentle- 
man in  White-hall,  but  refused  the 
same ;  and  afterwards  sold  it  for  ten 
shillings  in  Rosemary  Lane. 

About  six  of  the  clock  at  night,  he 
returned  home  to  his  wife  living  in 
Rosemary  lane,  and  gave  her  the 
money,  saying,  that  it  was  the  deer- 
est  money  that  ever  he  earned  in  his 
life,  for  it  would  cost  him  his  life. 
Which  prophetical  words  were  soon 
made  manifest,  for  it  appeared,  that 
ever  since  he  hath  been  in  a  most  sad 
condition,  and  upon  the  Almighties 
first  scourging  of  him  with  the  rod  of 
sicknesse,  and  the  friendly  admonition 
of  divers  friends  for  the  calling  of  him 
to  repentance,  yet  he  persisted  on  in 
his  vicious  vices,  and  would  not  heark- 
en thereunto,  but  lay  raging  and  swear- 
ing, and  still  pointing  S5P  at  one  thing 
or  another,  which  he  conceived  to  ap- 
pear visible  before  him. 

About  three  days  before  he  dy'd  he 
lay  speechlesse,  uttering  many  a  sigh 
and  heavy  groan,  and  so  in  a  most  des- 
perate manner  departed  from  his  bed  of 
sorrow.  For  the  buriall  whereof  great 
store  of  wines  were  sent  in  by  the 
Sheriff  of  the  City  of  London,  and  a 
great  multitude  of  people  stood  wayting 
to  see  his  corpes  carryed  to  the  church- 
yard, some  crying  out,  "  Hang  him 
Rogue,"  "  Bury  him  in  the  Dunghill ;  " 
others  pressing  upon  him,  saying,  they 
would    quarter   him    for    executing    of 


92 


The  Protectorate 


the  king :  insomuch,  that  the  church- 
wardens and  Masters  of  the  Parish  were 
fain  to  come  for  the  suppressing  of 
them,  and  (with  great  difficulty)  he 
was  at  last  carryed  to  White  Chappell 
Church-yard,  having  (as  it  is  said)  a 
bunch  of  Rosemary  at  each  epd  of  the 
coffin  on  the  top  thereof,  with  a  rope 
tyed  across  from  on  end  to  the  other. 
And  a  merry  conceited  Cock  living 
at  the  sign  of  the  Crown,  having  a 
black  Fan  (worth  the  value  of  thirty 
shillings)  took  a  resolution  to  rent  the 
same  in  pieces,  and  to  every  feather 
tied  a  piece  of  pack-thread  dy'd  in 
black  ink,  and  gave  them  to  divers  per- 
sons, who  (in  derision)  for  a  while, 
wore  them  in  their  hats. 


Thus  I  have  given  thee  an  exact  ac- 
count and  perfect  Relation  of  the  Life 
and  Death  of  Richard  Brandon,  to  the 
end  that  the  World  may  be  convinc'd  of 
those  calumnious  speeches  and  erro- 
neous suggestions  which  are  dayly  spit 
from  the  mouth  of  Envy  against  divers 
persons  of  great  worth  and  eminency, 
by  casting  an  odium  upon  them  for  the 
executing  of  the  king;  it  being  now 
made  manifest,  that  the  aforesaid  exe- 
cutioner was  the  only  man  who  gave 
the  fatall  blow,  and  his  man  that 
wayted  upon  him,  was  a  ragman  (of 
the  name  of  Ralph  Jones)  living  in 
Rosemary  Lane. 


GROIJP   XII. 

CHARACTERISTIC    TRAITS    OF    OLIVER    CROMWELL. 


I.  Extract  from  Sir  Ph.  Warwick's 
Memoirs.      (Edition  of   1702,  p.  247.) 

I  have  no  mind  to  give  an  ill  char- 
acter of  Cromwell ;  for  in  his  conversa- 
tion towards  me  he  was  ever  friendly ; 
tho'  at  the  latter  end  of  the  day  finding 
me  ever  incorrigible,  and  having  some 
inducements  to  suspect  me  a  tamperer, 
he  was  sufficiently  rigid.  The  first 
time  that  ever  I  took  notice  of  him  was 
in  the  very  beginning  of  the  Parliament 
held  in  November  1640,  when  I  vainly 
thought  myselfe  a  courtly  young  Gentle- 
man :  (for  we  Courtiei's  valued  our- 
selves much  upon  our  good  cloaths). 
I  came  one  morning  into  the  House 
well  clad,  and  perceived  a  Gentleman 
speaking  (whom  I  knew  not)  very 
ordinarily  apparelled :  for  it  was  a 
plain  cloth-sute,  which  seemed  to  have 
bin  made  by  an  ill  country-taylor ;  his 
linen  was  plain  and  not  very  clean ; 
and  I  remember  a  speck  or  two  of 
blood  on  his  little  band,  which  was  not 


much  larger  than  his  collar ;  his  hatt 
was  without  a  hatt-band,  his  stature 
was  of  a  good  size,  his  sword  stuck 
close  to  his  side,  his  countenance  swoln 
and  reddish,  his  voice  sharp  and  un- 
tunable,  and  his  eloquence  full  of  fer- 
vor; for  the  subject  matter  would  not 
bear  much  of  reason ;  it  being  in 
behalf  of  a  servant  of  Mr.  Prynn's, 
who  had  disperst  libells  against  the 
Queen  for  her  dancing  and  such  like 
innocent  and  courtly  sports ;  and  he 
aggravated  the  imprisonment  of  this 
man  by  the  Council-Table  unto  that 
height,  that  one  would  have  believed 
the  very  Government  it  selfe  had  been 
in  great  danger  by  it.  I  sincerely  pro- 
fesse  it  lessened  much  my  reverence 
unto  that  great  councill ;  for  he  was 
very  much  hearkened  unto.  And  yet 
I  liv'd  to  see  this  very  gentlemen,  whom 
out  of  no  ill-will  to  him  I  thus  describe, 
by  multiplied  good  successes  and  by 
real  (but  usurpt)  power:    (having  had 


The  Protectorate 


93 


a  better  taylor,  and  more  converse 
among  good  company)  in  mine  owne 
eye,  when  for  six  weeks  together  I  was 
a  prisoner  in  his  Serjeant's  hands,  and 
dayly  waited  at  Whitehall,  appeare  of 
a  great  and  majestick  deportment  and 
comely  presence.  Of  him  therefore 
I  will  say  no  more,  but  that  verily  I 
believe  he  was  extraordinarily  designed 
for  those  extraordinary  things,  which 
one  while  most  wickedly  and  facinor- 
ously  he  acted,  and  at  another  as  suc- 
cessfully and  greatly  performed. 


2.  Extracts  from  Ludlow  Memoirs, 
(Oxford,  1894). 

1648.     May  ai. 

In  the  mean  time  Lieutenant-General 
Cromwel  not  forgetting  himself,  pro- 
cured a  meeting  of  divers  leading  men 
amongst  the  Presbyterians  and  Inde- 
pendents, both  members  of  Parliament 
and  ministers,  at  a  dinner  in  Westmin- 
ster, under  pretence  of  endeavoring  a 
reconciliation  between  the  two  parties. 
.  .  .  x\nother  conference  he  contrived 
to  be  held  in  King  Street  between  those 
called  the  grandees  of  the  house  and 
army,  and  the  Commonwealths-men. 
.  .  .  The  Commonwealths-men  de- 
clared that  monarchy  was  neithet  good 
in  itsself,  nor  for  us.  .  .  .  Notwithstand- 
ing what  was  said,  Lieutenant-General 
Cromwell,  not  for  want  of  conviction, 
but  in  hopes  to  make  a  better  bargain 
with  another  party,  professed  himself 
unresolved,  and  having  learned  what  he 
could  of  the  principles  and  inclinations 
of  those  present  at  the  conference,  took 
up  a  cushion  and  flung  it  at  my  head, 
and  then  ran  down  the  stairs ;  but  I 
overtook  him  with  another,  which 
made  him  hasten  down  faster  than  he 
desired.    .   .   . 

Lieutenant-General  Cromwell,  who 
had  made  it  his  usual  practice  to  grat- 
ify enemies  even  with  the  oppression 


of  those  who  were  by  principle  his 
friends,  began  again  to  court  the  Com- 
monwealth party,  inviting  some  of 
them  to  confer  with  him  at  his  cham- 
ber :  with  which  acquainting  me  the 
next  time  he  came  to  the  House  of 
Commons,  I  took  the  freedom  to  tell 
him,  that  he  knew  how  to  cajole  and 
give  them  good  words  when  he  had  oc- 
casion to  make  use  of  them  ;  whereat 
breaking  out  into  a  rage,  he  said  they 
were  a  proud  sort  of  people  and  only 
considerable  in  their  own  conceits.  I 
told  him  it  was  no  new  thing  to  hear 
truth  calumniated,  and  that  tho  the 
Commonwealths- men  were  fallen  under 
his  displeasure,  I  would  take  the  liberty 
to  say  that  they  had  always  been  and 
ever  would  be  considerable  where  there 
was  not  a  total  defection  from  honesty, 
generosity,  and  all  true  vertue,  which  I 
hoped  was  not  yet  our  case. 

1651. 

.  .  .  General  Cromwel  had  long 
been  suspected  by  wise  and  good  men  ; 
but  he  had  taken  such  care  to  form  and 
mould  the  army  to  his  humor  and  in- 
terests, that  he  had  filled  all  places, 
either  with  his  own  creatures,  or  with 
such  as  hoped  to  share  with  him  in  the 
sovereignty,  and  removed  those  who 
foreseeing  his  design,  had  either  the 
courage  or  honesty  to  oppose  him  in  it. 
His  pernicious  intentions  did  not  dis- 
cover themselves  openly  until  after  the 
battel  at  Worcester,  which  in  one  of  his 
letters  to  the  Parliament  he  called  the 
Crowning  Victory.  At  the  same  time 
when  he  dismissed  the  militia,  who  had 
most  readily  offered  themselves  to  serve 
the  Commonwealth  against  the  Scots, 
he  did  it  with  anger  and  contempt, 
which  was  all  the  acknowledgment 
they  could  obtain  from  him  for  their 
service  and  affection  to  the  publick 
cause.  In  a  word,  so  much  was  he 
elevated  with  that  success,  that  Mr. 
Hugh  Peters,  as  he  since  told  me,  took: 


94 


The  Protectorate 


so  much  notice  of  it,  as  to  say  in  confi- 
dence to  a  friend  upon  the  road  in  his 
return  from  Worcester,  that  Cromwel 
would  make  himself  king.  He  now 
began  to  despise  divers  members  of  the 
House  whom  he  had  formerly  courted, 
and  grew  most  familiar  with  those 
whom  he  used  to  show  most  aversion 

to. 

1653,  April  20. 

The  Parliament  now  perceiving  to 
what  kind  of  excesses  the  madness  of 
the  army  was  like  to  carry  them,  re- 
solved to  leave  as  a  legacy  to  the  people 
the  Government  of  a  Commonwealth 
by  their  representatives,  when  assem- 
bled in  Parliament,  and  in  the  intervals 
thereof  by  a  Council  of  State,  chosen 
by  them,  and  to  continue  till  the  meet- 
ing of  the  next  succeeding  Parliament, 
to  whom  they  were  to  give  an  account 
of  their  conduct  and  management.  To 
this  end  they  resolved,  without  any 
further  delay,  to  pass  the  Act  for  their 
own  dissolution ;  of  which  Cromwel 
having  notice,  makes  haste  to  the 
House,  where  he  sat  down  and  heard 
the  debate  for  some  time.  Then  call- 
ing to  Major-General  Harrison,  who 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  House,  to 
come  to  him,  he  told  him,  that  he 
judged  the  Parliament  ripe  for  a  dis- 
solution, and  this  to  be  the  time  of 
doing  it. 

The  Major-General  answered,  as  he 
since  told  me :  '  Sir,  the  work  is  very 
great  and  dangerous,  therefore  I  de- 
sire you  seriously  to  consider  of  it  be- 
fore you  engage  in  it.'  '  You  say  well,' 
replied  the  General,  and  thereupon  sat 
still  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour ; 
and  then  the  question  for  passing  the 
Bill  being  to  be  put,  he  said  again  to 
Major-General  Harrison,  i  This  is  the 
time  I  must  do  it ;  '  and  suddenly  stand- 
ing up,  made  a  speech,  wherein  he 
loaded  the  Parliament  with  the  vilest 
reproaches,  charging  them  not  to  have 


a  heart  to  do  anything  for  the  publick 
good,  to  have  espoused  the  corrupt  in- 
terest of  Presbytery  and  the  lawyers, 
who  were  the  supporters  of  tyranny 
and  oppression,  accusing  them  of  an 
intention  to  perpetuate  themselves  in 
power,  had  they  not  been  forced  to  the 
passing  of  this  Act,  which  he  affirmed 
they  designed  never  to  observe,  and 
thereupon  told  them,  that  the  Lord  had 
done  with  them,  and  had  chosen  other 
instruments  for  the  carrying  on  his 
work  that  were  more  worthy.  This  he 
spoke  with  so  much  passion  and  dis- 
composure of  mind  as  if  he  had  been 
distracted.  Sir  Peter  Wentworth  stood 
up  to  answer  him,  and  said,  that  this 
was  the  first  time  that  ever  he  had  heard 
such  unbecoming  language  given  to  the 
Parliament,  and  that  it  was  the  more 
horrid  in  that  it  came  from  their  ser- 
vant, and  their  servant  whom  they  had 
so  highly  trusted  and  obliged  :  but  as 
he  was  going  on  the  General  stept  into 
the  midst  of  the  house,  where,  con- 
tinuing his  distracted  language,  he  said, 
'  Come,  come,  I  will  put  an  end  to 
your  prating ;  '  then  walking  up  and 
down  the  House  like  a  madman,  and 
kicking  the  ground  with  his  feet,  he 
cried  out,  '  You  are  no  Parliament,  I 
say  you  are  no  Parliament ;  I  will  put 
an  end  to  your  sitting;  call  them  in, 
call  them  in :  '  whereupon  the  sergeant 
attending  the  Parliament  opened  the 
doors,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Worsley 
with  two  files  of  musqueteers  entred 
the  House ;  which  Sir  Henry  Vane 
observing  from  his  place,  said  aloud, 
'  This  is  not  honest,  yea  it  is  against 
morality  and  common  honesty,'  Then 
Cromwel  fell  a  railing  at  him,  crying 
out  with  a  loud  voice,  '  O  Sir  Henry 
Vane,  Sir  Henry  Vane,  the  Lord  de- 
liver me  from  Sir  Henry  Vane.'  Then 
looking  upon  one  of  the  members  he 
said,  *  There  sits  a  drunkard ;  '  and 
giving  much  reviling  language  to  others, 


The  Protectorate 


95 


he  commanded  the  mace  to  be  taken 
away,  saying,  '  What  shall  we  do  with 
this  bauble?  here,  take  it  away.'  Hav- 
ing brought  all  into  this  disorder 
Major-General  Harrison  went  to  the 
Speaker  as  he  sat  in  the  chair,  and  told 
him,  that  seeing  things  were  reduced 
to  this  pass,  it  would  not  be  convenient 
for  him  to  remain  there.  The  Speaker 
answered  that  he  would  not  come  down 
unless  he  were  forced.  '  Sir,'  said 
Harrison,  '  I  will  lend  you  my  hand  ; ' 
and  thereupon  putting  his  hand  within 
his,  the  Speaker  came  down.  Then 
Cromwel  applied  himself  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  House,  who  were  in  number 
between  eighty  and  a  hundred,  and 
said  to  them,  '  It's  you  that  have  forced 
me  to  this,  for  I  have  sought  the  Lord 
night  and  day,  that  he  would  rather 
slay  me  than  put  me  upon  the  doing  of 
this  work.'  .  .  .  Cromwel  having  acted 
this  treacherous  and  impious  part,  or- 
dered the  guard  to  see  the  House  cleared 
of  all  the  members,  and  then  seized 
upon  the  records  that  were  there,  and 
at  Mr.  Scobell's  house.  After  which 
he  went  to  the  clerk,  and  snatching  the 
act  of  Dissolution,  which  was  ready  to 
pass,  out  of  his  hand,  he  put  it  under 
his  cloak,  and  having  commanded  the 
doors  to  be  locked  up,  went  away  to 
Whitehall. 

l653- 
,  .  .  After  a  few  days  a  coun- 
cil of  field-officers  was  summoned, 
where  Major-General  Lambert  having 
rehearsed  the  several  steps  and  degrees 
by  which  things  had  been  brought  to 
the  present  state  wherein  they  were, 
and  pressed  the  necessity  incumbent 
upon  the  army  to  provide  something  in 
the  room  of  what  was  lately  taken 
away,  presented  to  them  a  paper  in- 
tituled, '  An  Instrument  of  Govern- 
ment,' which  he  read  in  his  place. 
Some  of  the  officers  being  convinced 
that    the    contents    of    this    Instrument 


tended  to  the  sacrificing  all  our  labours 
to  the  lust  and  ambition  of  a  single 
person,  began  to  declare  their  unwil- 
lingness to  concur  in  it.  .  .  .  This  In- 
strument appointed  the  legislative  power 
to  be  in  the  Representatives  of  the  peo- 
ple and  the  Protector ;  that  a  Parlia- 
ment should  be  chosen  every  three 
years,  which  should  sit  five  months,  if 
they  thought  fit,  without  any  interrup- 
tion :  that  their  first  meeting  should  be 
on  the  thirteenth  of  September  next 
ensuing :  that  the  members  of  whom 
the  Parliament  was  to  consist,  should 
be  chosen  by  the  people  :  that  whatso- 
ever they  would  have  enacted,  should 
be  presented  to  the  Protector  for  his 
consent.  ...  It  provided  also  that  all 
writs  should  issue  out  in  the  Protector's 
name :  that  most  of  the  magistrates 
should  be  appointed,  and  all  honours 
conferred  by  him  :  that  he  should  have 
the  power  of  the  militia  by  sea  and 
land :  that  in  the  intervals  of  Parlia- 
ment the  nation  should  be  governed  by 
the  Protector  and  his  council.   .   .   . 

Things  being  thus  prepared,  the 
Mayor  and  Aldermen  of  London  were 
required  to  attend  at  Whitehall  in  their 
scarlet  gowns.  .  .  .  After  the  General 
had  heard  the  Instrument  of  Govern- 
ment read,  and  taken  the  oath  as 
directed  in  the  close  of  the  said  Instru- 
ment, Major-General  Lambert  kneeling 
presented  him  with  a  sword  in  the 
scabbard,  representing  the  civil  sword  ; 
which  Cromwel  accepting,  put  off  his 
own,  intimating  thereby  that  he  would 
no  longer  rule  by  the  military  sword, 
tho'  like  a  false  hypocrite  he  designed 
nothing  more. 


3.  Speech  of  Cromwell  on  opening 
the  Parliament  of  1654.  (In  White- 
locke  Memorials.     Vol.  IV.  p.  133.) 

After  the  sermon  ...  his  highness 
[Cromwell]  went  in  the  same  equipage 
to  the  painted  chamber,  where  he  was 


96 


The  Protectorate 


seated  in  a  chair  of  state  set  upon  steps, 
and  the  memhers  upon  benches  round 
about  sat  all  bare;  all  being  silent,  his 
highness  put  off  his  hat,  and  made  a 
large  and  subtle  speech  to  them  : 

He  told  them  the  danger  of  the  level- 
ling principles,  and  of  the  fifth-mon- 
archy opinions,  and  of  the  form  of 
godliness,  and  the  great  judgment  that 
hath  been  upon  this  nation  of  ten  years' 
civil  war.    .   .   . 

The  common  enemy  in  the  mean- 
time sleeps  not,  swarms  of  Jesuits 
come  over,  and  have  their  consistories 
abroad  to  rule  all  the  affairs  of  Eng- 
land and  the  dependancies  thereof.  .  .  . 

In  such  an  heap  of  confusion  was 
this  poor  nation ;  and  that  it  might  not 
sink  into  a  confusion  from  these  prem- 
ises a  remedy  must  be  applied.  A 
remedy  hath  been  applied,  this  gov- 
ernment. A  thing  that  ...  is  calcu- 
lated for  the  interest  of  the  people,  for 
their  interest  alone,  and  for  their  good, 
without  respect  had  to  any  other  inter- 
est.  .   .   . 

It  hath  put  a  stop  to  that  heady  way, 
for  every  man  that  will  to  make  him- 
self a  preacher,  having  endeavored  to 
settle  a  way  for  approbation  of  men  of 
piety  and  fitness  for  the  work.   .   .   . 

It  hath  taken  care  to  expunge  men 
unfit  for  that  work,  who  have  been  the 
common  scorn  and  reproach  to  that 
administration.   .   .   . 

One  thing  more :  it  hath  been  in- 
strumental to  call  a  free  parliament; 
blessed  be  God,  we  see  here  this  day  a 
free  parliament ;  and  that  it  may  con- 
tinue so,  I  hope,  is  in  the  heart  of 
every  good  man  of  England :  for  my 
own  part,  as  I  desired  it  above  my  life, 
so  to  keep  it  free  I  shall  value  it  above 
my  life.   .   .   . 

These  things  [treaties,  etc.]  which  I 
have  before  mentioned,  are  but  en- 
trances and  doors  of  hope ;  you  are 
brought  to  the  edge  of  Canaan,  (into 


which  many  that  have  gone  before 
could  not  enter,)  but  if  the  blessing 
and  presence  of  God  go  along  with  you 
in  management  of  your  affairs ;  I  make 
no  question  but  he  will  enable  you  to 
lay  the  topstone  of  this  work.   .   .   . 

The  great  end  of  calling  this  parlia- 
ment is,  that  the  work  of  God  may  go 
on,  that  the  ship  of  this  commonwealth 
may  be  brought  into  a  safe  har- 
bour.  .   .   . 

I  shall  conclude  with  my  persuasion 
to  you,  to  have  a  sweet,  gracious,  and 
holy  understanding  one  of  another,  and 
put  you  in  mind  of  the  counsel  you 
heard  this  day  in  order  thereunto.  And 
I  desire  you  to  believe  that  I  speak  not 
to  you  as  one  that  would  be  a  lord 
over  you,  but  as  one  that  is  resolved  to 
be  a  fellow-servant  with  you  to  the 
interest  of  this  great  affair. 


2.  Proceedings  of  the  Parliament  of 
1654.  (From  Journal  of  Guibon  God- 
dard.  Printed  with  Burton's  Diary. 
London,  1828.) 

Tuesday,  Sept.  5,  1654. 

The  House  met,  and  first  called  over 
all  their  members,  and  then  the  de- 
faulters, of  which  there  were  not  above 
three  score,  of  such  as  were  re- 
turned.  .  .   . 

.  .  .  Occasion  was  taken  by  some 
members  to  tell  us  that,  until  that  time 
they  had  not  so  much  as  heard  the 
name  of  my  Lord  Protector  within 
those  walls,  and  intimating,  as  if  there 
had  been  some  reflections  upon  the 
Government.  .  .  .  They  therefore, 
(from  Court  especially,  and  from  the 
soldiery  and  lawyers,)  pressed  hard, 
that  the  Government,  or  Instrument  of 
Government,  might  be  speedily  taken 
into  consideration,  and  some  return 
made  to  my  Lord  Protector,  of  thank- 
fulness for  his  late  speech. 


The  Protectorate 


97 


Sept.  6.  The  House  being  met,  and 
the  order  for  taking  the  Government  in- 
to consideration  being  first  read,  it  was 
moved  by  some,  that  there  was  some- 
thing that  lay  in  the  way  which  might 
hinder  the  freedom  of  that  debate, 
namely,  an  Ordinance,  so  called,  made 
by  the  Lord  Protector  and  his  council, 
whereby  it  was  made  High  Treason  for 
any  man  to  speak  against  the  present 
Government. 

Which  occasioned  many  discourses 
concerning  the  freedom  of  speech  in 
Parliament,  it  being  alleged,  that  that 
was  the  first-born  privilege  of  a  parlia- 
ment, and  the  very  heart-strings  of  it. 
In  fine  it  was  so  allowed  on  all  sides, 
and  that  no  law  or  power  from  without 
could  impeach  any  member,  for  any 
syllable  spoken  within  those  walls.   .   .   . 

Sept.  7. 

The  debate  of  the  main  question  was 
taken  up  [whether  the  Government  by 
a  single  person  and  a  Parliament 
should  be  approved].   .   .   . 

Much  debate  was  about  the  word 
"approving"  in  the  question,  as  if  it 
were  not  Parliamentary,  nor  for  the 
honour  of  the  House,  to  approve  of 
anything  which  takes  not  its  foundation 
and  rise  from  themselves.  .  .  .  Instead 
of  "  a  single  person  and  a  Parliament," 
they  would  have  "the  Parliament" 
preferred,  and  the  words  stand,  "that 
the  Government  should  be  in  the  Par- 
liament of  the  people  of  England  etc. 
and  a  single  person,  qualified  with  such 
instructions  as  the  Parliament  should 
think  fit."  Which  last  words  were 
exceedingly  pressed  to  be  added ;  and 
plainly  the  generality  of  voices  and  sense 
of  the  House  seemed  to  incline  that 
way. 

Sept.  9. 

It  now  began  to  be  visible,  that  the 
interest  of  the  single  person  did  plainly 
lose    ground ;    for    not  only    the    word 


"approved"  was  disrelished  on  all 
hands,  but  they  began  to  break  the 
question,  and  to  distinguish  the  word 
"Government"  into  the  legislative 
power  and  the  executive  power.  The 
first  was  generally  thought,  with  all  the 
reason  in  the  world,  to  be  the  right  of 
the  Parliament  alone,  without  commu- 
nicating the  least  part  of  it  to  any  single 
person  in  the  world.   .   .   . 

Sunday,  Sept.  10. 
The  parsons  generally  prayed  for  the 
Parliament  to  strengthen  their  hands 
and  enlarge  their  hearts ;  to  send  them 
that  had  wisdom,  zeal ;  and  them 
that  had  zeal,  wisdom ;  but  not  much 
concerning  the  single  person,  as  was 
observed. 

Sept.  11. 

The  House  .  .  .  was  resolved  again 
into  a  Grand  Committee  to  debate  the 
former  question ;  wherein  the  House 
did  proceed  with  a  great  deal  of  inge- 
nuity, modesty,  and  candour ;  and  this 
cannot  be  denied,  but  [is]  fit  to  be  remem- 
bered to  all  ages.  It  was  agreed  on 
all  hands  .  .  .  that  in  the  considera- 
tion of  this  question,  two  things  were 
to  be  considered  of,  verum,  et  bonum. 

The  verum,  that  is  the  truth  of  it 
was,  that  the  legislative  power  was  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  in  Parliament 
alone,  and  so  was  acknowledged  and 
settled.  But  for  the  bonum  of  it, 
whether  it  were  now  convenient  or  ex- 
pedient, per  hie  et  nunc.  That  was 
very  advisable.  The  arguments  on 
both  sides,  were  rationally  and  pruden- 
tially  urged.   .   .   . 

Sept.  1 2th  .  .  .  going  by  water  to 
Westminster,  I  was  told  that  the  Par- 
liament doors  were  locked  up  and 
guarded  with  soldiers,  and  the  barges 
were  to  attend  the  Protector  to  the 
Painted  chamber.  As  I  went,  I  saw 
two  barges  at  the  Privy  Stairs.  Being 
come  to  the  Hall,  I  was  confirmed  in 
what  I  had  heard.     Nevertheless,  I  did 


98 


The  Protectorate 


purpose  not  to  take  things  merely  upon 
trust,  but  would  receive  an  actual  re- 
pulse, to  confirm  my  faith. 

Accordingly,  I  attempted  up  the  Par- 
liament stairs,  but  there  was  a  guard 
of  soldiers,  who  told  me  there  was  no 
passage  that  way ;  that  the  House  was 
locked  up,  and  command  given  to  give 
no  admittance  to  any.  That,  if  I  were 
a  member,  I  might  go  to  the  Painted 
chamber,  where  the  Protector  would 
presently  be. 

The  mace  was  taken  away  by  Commis- 
sary-general Whalley.  The  Speaker 
and  all  the  members  were  walking  up 
and  down  the  Hall,  the  Court  of  Re- 
quests, and  the  Painted  chamber,  ex- 
pecting the  Protector's  coming;  the 
passages  there,  being  likewise  guarded 
with  soldiers. 

The  Protector  coming  about  ten  of 
the  clock,  attended  with  his  officers, 
life-guard,  and  halberds,  he  took  his 
place  upon  the  scaffold,  where  it  was 
before,  and  made  a  speech  of  about  an 
hour  and  a  half  long,  wherein  he  did 
not  forbear  to  tell  us,  that  he  did  expect 
and  hope  for  better  fruit  and  effect  of 
our  last  meeting  in  that  place  than  he 
had  yet  found  ;  that  he  perceived  there 
was  a  necessity  upon  him  to  magnify, 
as  he  called  it,  his  office.  He  told  us 
a  large  series  of  the  providences  of  God 
and  the  suffrages  of  the  people,  which 
were  so  many  witnesses,  evidences,  and 
seals,  of  his  calling  to  the  government, 
and  which  did  cause  him  to  put  a  greater 
value  upon  his  title  so  derived,  than 
upon  the  broken  hereditary  title  of  any 
prince  whatsoever.  That  having  re- 
ceived his  office  from  God  and  from 
the  people,  he  was  resolved  never  to 
part  with  it,  until  God  and  the  people 
should  take  it  from  him. 

That  it  could  not  be  expected,  when 
he  told  us  before  that  we  were  a  free 
Parliament,  that  he  meant  it  otherwise 
free    than  as  it  should    act    under  that 


government.  That  those  pitiful  for- 
wardnesses and  peevishnesses,  which 
were  abroad,  he  valued  no  more  than 
the  motes  in  the  sun.  But  that  the 
Parliament  should  now  dispute  his 
office  under  whose  authority  we  were 
then  met,  was  a  great  astonishment  to 
him. 

That  he  was  unwilling  to  break  privi- 
leges ;  but  necessity  had  no  law. 

He  told  us,  he  had  ordered  the  Par- 
liament doors  to  be  locked  up  and 
guarded,  and  had  appointed  an  officer 
to  take  subscriptions  to  a  recognition 
of  his  authority ;  which  being  done 
might  give  us  an  entrance.  Which 
being  said,  we  were  dismissed  about 
eleven  o'clock. 

His  party,  that  is,  courtiers  and  offi- 
cers of  the  army,  and  some  others, 
presently  subscribed.  Before  they  ad- 
journed, which  was  about  twelve  of 
the  clock,  there  were  about  one  hun- 
dred subscriptions ;  which  being  en- 
tered, they  sent  for  the  Speaker,  who 
came,  subscribed,  entered,  and  ad- 
journed until  two  of  the  clock. 

In  the  meantime,  the  rest  of  the 
members  consulted  one  another's  judg- 
ments. I  went  to  see  what  it  was  that 
we  were  to  subscribe  unto.  It  was 
written  in  a  long  piece  of  parchment 
in  these  words,  or  to  that  effect,  viz.  : — 

"I  do  hereby  freely  promise  and 
engage,  that  I  will  be  true  and  faithful 
to  the  Lord  Protector  and  the  Common- 
wealth of  England,  Scotland  and  Ire- 
land, and  that  according  to  the  tenor 
of  the  indentures  whereby  I  am  returned 
to  serve  in  this  present  Parliament,  I 
will  not  propose,  or  consent  to  alter 
the  government  as  it  is  settled  in  a  sole 
person  and  the  Parliament." 

Our  Norfolk  members  did  not  pres- 
ently subscribe,  saving  only  Mr.  Frere, 
who  instantly  subscribed  it.  The  rest 
of  our  members  did  most  of  us  dine 
together,    purposely    to    consult    what 


The  Protectorate 


99 


was  fittest  to  be  done  in  so  great  an 
exigent,  in  order  to  the  discharge  of 
our  trust.  And,  truly,  the  subscription 
was,  in  effect,  no  more  than  what  we 
were  restrained  unto  by  our  indentures, 
and  the  thing  would  be  done  without 
us,  and  we  had  fairly  contended  for  it : 
we  had  not  given  the  question,  but  it 
was  forced  from  us,  and  we  were  told 
that  plainly  it  must  be  so.  For  these 
and  several  other  considerations  and 
reasons,  which  we  thought  ought  to 
prevail  with  men  preferring  the  peace 
of  our  countries  and  the  safety  of  our 
people  immediately  concerned  in  this 
affair,  before  passions  and  humours, 
we  thought  fit  rather  to  give  way  to 
the  present  necessity,  and  to  comply 
with  it  by  submitting  than  refusing. 
Accordingly  we  did  subscribe,  all  ex- 
cept Mr.  Woodhouse,  Mr.  Hobart,  and 
Mr.  Church.  And  although  we  con- 
demn the  breach  of  privilege  as  much  as 
any,  yet  we  doubt  not  but  to  acquit  our- 
selves to  God,  and  to  our  country,  in  so 
doing,  rather  than  to  put  the  nation  into 
another  combustion  and  confusion. 

After  we  had  subscribed,  we  went 
into  the  House,  and  after  some  expres- 
sions of  tenderness  and  respects  to  our 
fellow  members  without,  we  adjourned 
until  Thursday  morning,  the  next  day, 
Wednesday,  being  the  Fast.  .  .  . 
Nov.  ioth,  1654.  .  .  .  It  was  voted : 
.  .  .  That  all  bills  agreed  unto  by 
the  Parliament  shall  be  presented  to 
the  said  single  person  for  his  consent. 
And,  in  case  he  shall  not  give  his  con- 
sent thereunto,  within  twenty  days  after 
they  shall  be  presented  to  him,  or  give 
satisfaction  to  the  Parliament  within  the 
time  limited,  that  then  such  bills  shall 
pass  into,  and  become  laws,  although 
he  shall  not  give  his  consent  thereunto. 
Provided  such  Bills  contain  nothing  in 
them  contrary  to  such  matters  wherein 
the  Parliament  shall  think  fit  to  give  a 
negative  to  the  Lord  Protector. 


.  .  .  The  Court-party,  against  whom 
the  vote  was  carried,  were  so  much 
dissatisfied,  and,  indeed,  so  impatient 
that  ...  it  was  said  by  them,  that 
this  vote  had  destroyed  the  Govern- 
ment. The  very  foundation  upon 
which  we  rest  would  receive  so  great  a 
wound  by  it,  as  nothing  now  that  we 
could  do,  subsequently,  could  cure  it. 
We  had,  as  much  as  a  vote  could  do, 
unmade  the  Protector.  So  fatal,  and 
so  mortal  was  this  wound  to  the  Gov- 
ernment, in  the  opinion  of  some,  that 
one,  a  person  of  honour  and  nobility, 
did  wish  he  could  have  redeemed  that 
wound  with  a  pound  of  the  best  blood 
in  his  body. 

It  was  often  and  soberly  pressed  by 
the  other  side,  that  they  saw  no  cause 
for  such  tragical  apprehensions,  that 
the  fears  seemed  panic,  and  the  wound 
they  spake  of,  invisible.  .  .  .  Yet 
nothing  would  satisfy  the  court-party, 
but  in  great  confusion  and  discontent, 
they  cried  out  for  an  adjournment,  giv- 
ing the  whole  business  lost,  and  presag- 
ing an  ominous  and  sudden  dissolution. 

But,  after  some  heats  were  over,  the 
more  moderate  of  either  side  fell  to  ex- 
pedients. Amongst  which,  some  were 
inconsequent  things,  and  destructive 
wholly  to  the  former  vote.  But,  in 
fine  ...  it  was  proposed, 

1.  To  change  the  word  "give" 
[Parliament  shall  think  fit  to  give  a 
negative,  etc.]  into  "  declare." 

2.  Whereas  Parliament  is  named 
alone  in  the  proviso  to  declare  the 
negatives,  it  was  desired  that  the  sin- 
gle person  might  be  joined  with 
them.   .   .   . 

Saturday,  Nov.  1 1 . 

It  was  moved  that  the  former  amend- 
ments be  added  to  the  former  vote  of 
yesterday.  Some,  to  further  the  mo- 
tion, pretended  that  they  themselves 
had  been,  the  night  before,  surprised 
in  the  question  and  did  not  think  it  had 


IOO 


The  Protectorate 


carried  such  a  consequence  in  the  man- 
ner of  it.  Others  talked  of  fears  and 
imminent  dangers.  To  both  which,  a 
member  replied,  something  earnestly, 
saying,  as  to  the  first,  he  conceived  it 
not  Parliamentary,  to  retract  a  vote 
upon  a  non  putarem  ;  for  such  as  sate 
there  were  all  supposed  to  be  wise  men, 
et  incipientis  est,  dicer e  non  putarem, 
and  for  the  other  arguments,  of  fears 
and  jealousies,  he  conceived  they  were 
bugbears  and  brain-squirts,  things  not 
to  affright  such  an  assembly  into  any 
change  in  their  councils ;  which  gave 
such  offence  and  scandal  to  the  court- 
party,  as  they  questioned  the  gentle- 
man for  it. 

Some  ado  there  was  to  have  had  him 
to  the  bar ;  but  some  excused  him,  and 
one  especially,  tartly  enough,  upon  that 
old  ground  of  netno  mortalium  omnibus 
horis  sapit,  which  was,  a  Rowland  for 
an  Oliver.  Others  desired  that  he 
might  but  explain  himself.  To  which 
it  was  answered,  that  that  needed  not. 
The  gentleman  that  spoke  before,  had 
done  it  for  him. 

After  they  had  made  themselves  a 
little  merry  with  these  puns,  at  length 
they  fell  into  a  more  serious  considera- 
tion of  the  point.   .   .   . 

At  length  the  question  was  put  for 
the  amendment.  It  was  agreed  unto, 
nemime  contradicente,  so  as  the  proviso 
then  amended  ran  thus  : — 

Provided  that  such  Bills  contain 
nothing  in  them  contrary  to  such  mat- 
ters wherein  the  said  single  person  and 
the  Parliament  shall  think  fit  to  declare 
a  negative  to  be  in  the  said  single  per- 
son. 


4.  Extracts  from  Ludlow. 


l655' 


.  .  .  (Cromwell)  next  asked  me, 
wherefore  I  would  not  engage  not  to 
act  against  the  present  Government, 
telling  me,  that  if  Nero  were  in  power, 


it  would  be  my  duty  to  submit.  To 
which  I  replied,  that  I  was  ready  to 
submit,  and  could  truly  say,  that  I 
knew  not  of  any  design  against  him. 
'  But,'  said  I,  '  if  Providence  open  a 
way,  and  give  an  opportunity  of  ap- 
pearing in  behalf  of  the  people,  I  can- 
not consent  to  tie  my  own  hands  before- 
hand, and  oblige  myself  not  to  lay  hold 
on  it.'  '  However,'  said  he,  '  it  is  not 
reasonable  to  suffer  one  that  I  distrust 
to  come  within  my  house,  till  he  assure 
me  he  will  do  no  mischief.'  I  told 
him  I  was  not  accustomed  to  go  to  any 
house  unless  I  expected  to  be  welcome  ; 
neither  had  I  come  hither  but  upon  a 
message  from  him,  and  that  I  desired 
nothing  but  a  little  liberty  to  breathe  in 
the  air,  to  which  I  conceived  I  had 
an  equal  right  with  other  men.  He 
then  fell  to  inveigh  bitterly  against 
Major  Wildman,  as  the  author  of 
the  petition  from  the  army  before- 
mentioned,  reviling  him  with  unhand- 
som  words,  and  saying  he  deserved  to 
be  hanged ;  and  that  he  must  secure 
me  also,  if  I  would  not  oblige  myself 
never  to  act  against  him.  I  told  him  I 
had  gone  as  far  as  I  could  in  that  en- 
gagement which  I  had  given  to  Lieu- 
tenant-General  Fleetwood  ;  and  if  that 
were  not  though';  sufficient,  I  resolved 
with  God's  assistance  to  suffer  any  ex- 
tremities that  might  be  imposed  upon 
me.  '  Yes,'  said  he,  '  we  know  your 
resolution  well  enough,  and  we  have 
cause  to  be  as  stout  as  you  ;  but  I  pray 
who  spoke  of  your  suffering?'  l  Sir,' 
said  I,  '  if  I  am  not  deceived,  you  men- 
tioned the  securing  of  my  person.' 
'  Yea,'  said  he,  '  and  great  reason  there 
is  why  we  should  do  so ;  for  I  am 
ashamed  to  see  that  engagement  which 
you  have  given  to  the  Lieutenant- 
General,  which  would  be  more  fit  for 
a  General  who  should  be  taken  pris- 
oner, and  that  hath  yet  an  army  of 
thirty  thousand  men  in  the  field,  than 


The  Protectorate 


IOI 


for  one  in  your  condition.'  I  answered 
that  it  was  as  much  as  I  could  consent 
to  give.   .    .   . 

1656. 
.  .  .  About  the  same  time  Mr. 
Peters,  who  still  kept  fair  with  those 
at  Whitehall,  made  me  a  visit ;  and 
in  our  conversation  about  the  public 
affairs  I  freely  told  him  my  opinion 
concerning  the  actions  of  Cromwel, 
endeavoring  to  make  him  sensible  not 
only  of  his  injustice,  but  great  impru- 
dence, thus  to  sacrifice  the  common 
cause  to  his  ambition,  and  by  every 
step  he  had  lately  taken  to  strengthen 
the  common  enemy,  whereby  he  would 
undoubtedly  open  a  way  for  the  return 
of  the  family  of  the  late  king,  who 
would  not  fail  to  do  all  that  revenge 
could  inspire  them  with  :  whereas  if  he 
had  made  use  of  his  power  to  establish 
the  just  liberties  of  the  nation,  or  could 
yet  be  persuaded  so  to  do,  he  might 
live  more  honoured  and  esteemed,  have 
the  pleasure  and  satisfaction  arising 
from  so  generous  an  action  when  he 
died,  and  leave  his  own  family,  together 
with  the  whole  body  of  the  people,  in 
a  most  happy  and  flourishing  condition. 
He  confessed  that  what  I  had  said  was 
most  true,  but  added,  that  there  was 
not  a  man  about  him  who  had  courage 
enough  to  tell  him  so  :  that  for  his  part 
he  had  observed  him  immediately  after 
the  victory  at  Worcester  to  be  so  ele- 
vated, that  he  then  began  to  fear  what 
has  since  come  to  pass ;  and  that  he 
told  a  friend  with  whom  he  then  quar- 
tered in  his  return  to  London,  that  he 
was  inclined  to  believe  Cromwel  would 
endeavor  to  make  himself  king. 


5.   Extracts  from  Evelyn's  Diary. 
April  9,  1655. 

I  went  to  see  ye  greate  ship  newly 
built  by  the  usurper  Oliver,  carrying 
96  brasse  guns,  and  1000  tons  burthen. 


In  ye  prow  was  Oliver  on  horseback, 
trampling  6  nations  under  foote,  a 
Scott,  Irishman,  Dutchman,  French- 
man, Spaniard,  and  English,  as  was 
easily  made  out  by  their  several  habits. 
A  Fame  held  a  laurel  over  his  insulting 
head  ;  ye  word,   God  with  us. 

March  25th,  1657. 
.  .  .  The  Protector  Oliver,  now  af- 
ecting  kingship,  is  petition' d  to  take 
the  title  on  him  by  all  his  new-made 
sycophant  lords,  etc.  but  dares  not  for 
feare  of  the  phanatics,  not  thoroughly 
purg'd  out  of  his  rebell  army. 

Dec.  25th,  1657. 
...  I  went  to  London  with  my 
wife,  to  celebrate  Christmas-day,  Mr. 
Gunning  preaching.  ...  As  he  was 
giving  us  ye  holy  sacrament,  the  chap- 
ell  was  surrounded  with  souldiers,  and 
all  the  communicants  and  assembly 
surpriz'd  and  kept  prisoners  by  them. 
...  In  the  afternoone  came  Col. 
Whaley,  Goffe,'and  others  from  White- 
hall, to  examine  us  one  by  one ;  some 
they  committed  to  ye  Marshall,  some 
to  prison.  When  I  came  before  them 
they  tooke  my  namej  and  abode,  exam- 
in'd  me  why,  contrary  to  an  ordinance 
made  that  none  should  any  longer  ob- 
serve ye  superstitious  time  of  the  Na- 
tivity (so  esteem' d  by  them),  I  durst 
offend,  and  particularly  be  at  Common 
Prayers,  which  they  told  me  was  but 
ye  masse  in  English,  and  particularly 
pray  for  Charles  Steuart,  for  which  we 
had  no  Scripture.  I  told  them  we  did 
not  .pray  for  Cha.  Steuart,  but  for  all 
Christian  Kings,  Princes,  and  Gov- 
ernors. They  replied,  in  so  doing  we 
praied  for  the  K.  of  Spaine  too,  who 
was  their  enemie  and  a  papist,  with 
other  frivolous  and  insnaring  questions 
and  much  threatning;  and  finding  no 
colour  to  detaine  me,  they  dismissed 
me  with  much  pitty  of  my  ignorance. 


102 


The  Protectorate 


These  were  men  of  high  flight  and 
above  ordinances,  and  spake  spiteful 
things  of  our  Lord's  Nativity.  As  we 
went  up  to  receive  the  Sacrament  the 
miscreants  held  their  muskets  against 
us  as  if  they  would  have  shot  us  at  the 
altar,  but  yet  suffering  us  to  finish  the 
office  of  Communion,  as  perhaps  not 
having  instructions  what  to  do  in  case 
they  found  us  in  that  action.  So  I  got 
home  late  the  next  day,  blessed  be  God. 


6.   Extracts  from  Ludlow. 


:658. 


.  .  .  After  the  death  of  Mrs.  Cley- 
pole  it  was  observed  that  Cromwel 
grew  melancholy,  and  also  distempered 
with  divers  infirmities,  particularly  a 
malignant  humour  in  his  foot ;  which 
hindring  him  from  the  exercises  of 
walking  or  riding  abroad,  he  obliged 
his  physicians  to  endeavor  to  disperse 
it,  which  they  endeavoring  to  do,  drove 
it  upwards  to  his  heart.  By  this  means 
he  became  desperately  sick ;  and  as 
some  about  him  had  for  a  long  time 
deceived  others,  so  they  now  endeav- 
oured to  impose  upon  God  himself. 
For  Dr.  Goodwin,  his  creature  and 
trencher-chaplain,  used  this  expression 
in  his  prayer  during  the  time  of  his 
sickness;  'Lord,  we  beg  not  for  his 
recovery,  for  that  Thou  hast  already 
granted,  and  assured  us  of,  but  for  his 
speedy  recovery.'  At  this  time  I  was 
in  the  county  of  Essex,  and  according 
to  a  former  resolution  I  had  taken, 
went  to  London  to  attend  my  father 
Oldsworth,  and  to  bring  him  into  the 
country,  whither  he  designed  to  come 
with  my  mother  Ludlow.  On  the 
Monday  afternoon  I  set  forward  on 
my  journey,  the  morning  proving  so 
tempestuous  that  the  horses  were  not 
able  to  draw  against  it ;  so  that  I  could 
reach  no  farther  than  Epping  that 
night.     By  this  means  I  arrived  not  at 


Westminster  till  Tuesday  about  noon, 
when  passing  by  Whitehall,  notice  was 
immediately  given  to  Cromwel,  that  I 
was  come  to  town.  Whereupon  he 
sent  for  Lieutenant-General  Fleetwood, 
and  ordered  him  to  enquire  concerning 
the  reasons  of  my  coming  in  such 
haste,  and  at  such  a  time.  The  Lieu- 
tenant-General accordingly  desired  by 
a  message  that  I  would  come  to  him 
the  next  morning,  which  I  did,  and 
understood  from  him  that  Cromwel 
suspected  I  was  come  with  a  design  to 
raise  some  disturbance  in  the  army,  and 
that  he  was  desirous  to  know  the  occa- 
sion of  my  journey.  I  assured  him 
that  as  it  was  not  in  my  power  to 
cause  any  commotion  in  the  army,  so 
neither  was  it  in  my  thoughts  at  this 
time ;  and  that  I  came  to  town  in  order 
to  bring  our  family  together  into  the 
country,  according  to  a  resolution  taken 
a  month  since,  and  before  I  heard  of 
Cromwel' s  indisposition.  He  then  told 
me,  that  the  Protector  had  been  ill,  but 
that  it  was  now  hoped  he  was  recover- 
ing. I  said,  that  I  wished  him  so  well, 
that  I  was  not  desirous  he  should  die 
in  the  way  he  was  in  at  present,  and 
assured  him,  that  I  should  be  glad  of 
the  prolongation  of  his  life,  if  he  would 
employ  it  to  the  publick  good,  which 
ought  to  be  more  dear  to  us  than  life 
itself. 

At  Whitehall  they  were  unwilling  to 
have  it  known  that  he  was  so  danger- 
ously ill  .  .  .  certain  it  is  that  the 
Commissioners  were  not  admitted  till 
the  Friday  following,  when  the  symp- 
toms of  death  were  apparent  upon  him, 
and  many  ministers  and  others  assem- 
bled in  a  chamber  at  Whitehall,  pray- 
ing for  him,  whilst  he  manifested  so 
little  remorse  of  conscience  for  his 
betraying  the  publick  cause,  and  sacri- 
ficing it  to  the  idol  of  his  own  ambi- 
tion, that  some  of  his  last  words  were 
rather   becoming    a     mediator    than    a 


The  Protectorate 


103 


sinner,  recommending  to  God  the  con- 
dition of  the  nation  that  he  had  so 
infamously  cheated,  and  expressing  a 
great  care  of  the  people  whom  he  had 
so  manifestly  despised.  But  he  seemed 
above  all  concerned  for  the  reproaches 
he  said  men  would  cast  upon  his  name, 
in  trampling  on  his  ashes  when  dead. 
In  this  temper  of  mind  he  departed 
this  life  about  two  in  the  afternoon  ; 
and  the  news  of  his  death  being  brought 
to  those  who  were  met  together  to  pray 
for  him,  Mr.  Sterry  stood  up  and 
desired  them  not  to  be  troubled.  For, 
said  he,  '  this  is  good  news ;  because  if 
he  was  of  great  use  to  the  people  of 
God  when  he  was  amongst  us,  now  he 
will  be  much  more  so,  being  ascended 
to  Heaven  to  sit  at  the  right  hand  of 
Jesus  Christ,  there  to  intercede  for  us 
and  to  be  mindful  of  us  on  all  occa- 
sions.' 

.  .  .  One  of  the  first  acts  of  the 
new  government  was,  to  order  the  fu- 
neral of  the  late  usurper;  and  the 
Council  having  resolved  that  it  should 
be  very  magnificent,  the  care  of  it  was 
referred  to  a  committee  of  them,  who 
sending  for  Mr.  Kinnersly  master  of 
the  wardrobe,  desired  him  to  find  out 
some  precedent  by  which  they  might 
govern  themselves  in  this  important 
affair.  After  examination  of  his  books 
and  papers,  Mr.  Kinnersly,  who  was 
suspected  to  be  inclined  to  popery, 
recommended  to  them  the  solemnities 
used  upon  the  like  occasion  for  Philip 
the  Second,  King  of  Spain,  who  had 


been  represented  to  be  in  purgatory  for 
about  two  months.  In  the  like  manner 
was  the  body  of  this  gi*eat  reformer 
laid  in  Somerset-House  :  the  apartment 
was  hung  with  black,  the  day-light  was 
excluded,  and  no  other  but  that  of  wax 
tapers  to  be  seen.  This  scene  of  pur- 
gatory continued  till  the  first  of  Novem- 
ber, which  being  the  day  preceding 
that  commonly  called  All  Souls,  he 
was  removed  into  the  great  hall  of  the 
said  house,  and  represented  in  effegie, 
standing  on  a  bed  of  crimson  velvet 
covered  with  a  gown  of  the  like  coloured 
velvet,  a  scepter  in  his  hand,  and  a 
crown  on  his  head.  That  part  of  the 
hall  wherein  the  bed  stood  was  railed 
in,  and  the  rails  and  ground  within 
them  covered  with  crimson  velvet. 
Four  or  five  hundred  candles  set  in  flai 
shining  candle-sticks  were  so  placed 
round  near  the  roof  of  the  hall,  that 
the  light  they  gave  seemed  like  the 
rays  of  the  sun :  by  all  which  he  was 
represented  to  be  now  in  a  state  of 
glory.  This  folly  and  profusion  so  far 
provoked  the  people,  that  they  threw 
dirt  in  the  night  on  his  escucheon  that 
was  placed  over  the  great  gate  of 
Somerset  House.  I  purposely  omit 
the  rest  of  the  pageantry,  the  great 
number  of  persons  that  attended  on  the 
body,  the  procession  to  Westminster, 
the  vast  expence  in  mourning,  the  state 
and  magnificence  of  the  monument 
erected  for  him,  with  many  other 
things  that  I  care  not  to  remember. 


io4 


The  Protectorate 


GROUP  XIII. 


SPECIMENS    OF    PARLIAMENTARY    PROCEEDINGS    UNDER    THE    COMMONWEALTH. 


Extracts  from  Goddard's  and  Bur- 
ton's Diaries.      (London,    1828.) 

Tuesday,  Oct.  7,  1656. 

Resolved,  that  the  consideration  of 
the  laws  touching  profane  swearing, 
and  the  defects  therein,  be  referred  to 
the  Committee  for  alehouses  and  drunk- 
enness.  .   .   . 

That  it  be  referred  to  the  .  .  .  Com- 
mittee [on  servants'  wages],  to  take 
into  consideration  the  habits  and  fashions 
of  servants  and  labourers,  and  to  prepare 
a  Bill  for  the  remedying  the  abuses 
therein.   .   .   . 

Thursday,  9th. 

Ordered,  that  Sir  Thomas  Honywood, 
a  member  of  this  House,  have  leave  to 
go  into  the  country  for  fourteen  days, 
to  bring  up  his  lady  and  family. 

Thursday,  16th. 
Ordered  that  it  be  referred  to  a  Com- 
mittee, to  revise  the  statutes   touching 
wandering,    idle,    loose    and    dissolute 
persons,  beggars,  rogues  and  vagabonds. 

That  it  be  referred  to  the  same  Com- 
mittee, to  consider  of,  and  provide  a 
Bill,  for  redress  of  the  evils  by  such 
persons  as  live  at  very  high  rates,  and 
have  no  visible  estate,  profession,  or 
calling  suitable  thereunto.   .   .   . 

Monday,  20th. 
.  .  .  Colonel  Jephson  acquainted  the 
House  with  a  book  delivered  at  the  door, 
in  print,  entituled  "Thunder  from  the 
Throne  of  God,  against  the  Temples  of 
Idols,"  with  an  epistle  in  it  directed  to 
his  Highness,  the  Lord  Protector,  and 
the  Parliament  of  England ;  which 
epistle  was  now  read. 


Resolved,  that  Samuel  Chidley  be 
called  in,  to  the  bar.  And  he  was, 
accordingly,  called  in.  And  being  come 
to  the  bar,  the  book  was  showed  him, 
who  acknowledged  he  wrote  the  epistle  ; 
and  doth  own  it,  and  all  that  is  in  it ; 
and  owns  the  book  too,  and  all  in  it,  the 
printer's  errors  excepted. 

Ordered,  that  this  book,  entituled 
"Thunder  from  the  Throne  of  God, 
against  the  Temples  of  Idols,"  and  the 
epistle  of  it,  be  referred  to  a  committee, 
viz.  :  to  Lord  Commissioner  Whitlock, 
etc.   .   .    . 

Resolved,  that  Samuel  Chidley  be 
committed  to  the  custody  of  the  Serjeant- 
at-Arms  attending  this  House. 

Friday,  Nov.  21. 
Resolved,    that   no    member   of    the 
House    do    remain    in   the    Committee 
Chambers,  during  the  time  of  prayers. 

Nov.  27. 

The  Serjeant  brings  word,  that  Ser- 
jeant Dendy  was  at  the  door  with  a 
message  from  his  Highness.  And, 
thereupon  he  was  called  in.  And,  hav- 
ing made  two  obeisances  to  the  House, 
when  he  came  into  the  middle  of  the 
House,  with  his  mace  in  his  hand,  he 
declared  to  Mr.  Speaker,  that  he  was 
commanded  by  his  Highness  the  Lord 
Protector,  to  let  this  House  know  that 
his  Highness  is  in  the  Painted  Chamber, 
and  desires  to  speak  with  this  honour- 
able House.  And  thereupon  with- 
drew. 

Which  being  done,  Mr.  Speaker, 
attended  with  the  whole  House,  the 
Clerk  with  the  Bills  in  his  hand,  and 
the  Serjeant  with  his  mace  .  .  .  went 
up  to  the  Painted  Chamber;   where  his 


The  Protectorate 


105 


Highness,  attended  with  the  Lord  Presi- 
dent and  the  rest  of  the  Council  [etc., 
etc.]   were  expecting.   .   .   . 

The  Speaker  addressed  himself  to  his 
Highness,  and  gave  an  account  of  the 
employment  of  the  House  during  their 
sitting ;  and  that  many  Bills  for  the 
public  good  were  upon  the  anvil.   .   .   . 

After  which  the  Clerk  read  the  title 
of  the  first  Bill.  .  .  .  Which  Bill  his 
Highness  caused  to  be  read  ;  and  upon 
reading  thereof,  declared  to  the  Clerk 
his  consent  to  the  same,  in  these  words, 
"We  do  consent."  And,  thereupon, 
the  Clerk  made  an  entry  thereof  on  the 
Bill,  in  these  words,  "The  Lord  Pro- 
tector doth  consent."    .   .   . 

The  titles  of  the  rest  of  the  public 
Bills,  first,  and  then  the  private  Bills, 
were  read.  And  to  each  of  them  his 
Highness' s  consent  thereunto  declared, 
entered,  and  published  as  before. 

.  .  .  His  Highness  having  made  a 
short  speech,  the  Speaker,  with  the  rest 
of  the  members,  departed  in  the  like 
order  as  they  came  thither,  to  the  Parlia- 
ment House.   .   .   . 

Dec.  5th.  [•* 

.  .  .  Mr.  Fowell  reported  the  bill 
from  the  committee,  with  amendments, 
touching  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  sturdy 
beggars.   .   .   . 

Second  Amendment,  "Being  wander- 
ing ten  miles  from  his  habitation." 

Second  Amendment  excepted  against 
for  too  great  a  distance.   .   .  . 

Major  Audley.  If  you  leave  it  in 
the  power  of  justices  to  judge  who  shall 
be  wanderers,  for  ought  I  know  I  my- 
self may  be  whipped,  if  I  be  found  but 
ten  miles  from  my  own  house,  unless 
the  justice  of  the  peace  will  allow  my 
excuse.   .   .   . 

Sir  Richard  Onslow  and  Mr.  High- 
land. If  you  make  new  wanderers  and 
vagabonds,  other  than  ever  our  ancestors 
knew  of,  let  us  know  what  they  are.  .  .  . 
By  these  termini's  generalidus,  any  man 


may  be  adjudged  by  the  justice  to  be  a 
vagrant. 

Colonel  Edwards.  They  have  chain 
enough,  keep  them  within  their  com- 
pass. If  they  know  they  have  ten  miles 
to  rove  in,  by  this  means  you  give  them 
forty  miles  circumference. 

Resolved,  Not  to  agree  with  the  com- 
mittee in  ten  miles  distance.    .   .    . 

Dr.  Clarges.  Give  liberty  for  five 
miles,  that  you  may  suppress  the 
Quakers,  who  greatly  increase,  and 
pester  and  endanger  the  Common- 
wealth. 

Major  Audley.  Ascertain  what  this 
individuum  vagum  is,  lest  it  be  quidam 
homo,  any  man.  I  would  have  the 
persons  ascertained.  If  they  be  Quak- 
ers, I  could  freely  give  my  consent  that 
they  should  be  whipped.   .   .   . 

Sir  Thomas  Wroth.  Harpers  should 
be  included. 

Mr.  .  Pipers  should  be  com- 
prehended. 

Alderman  Foote.  I  hope  you  in- 
tend not  to  include  the  waits  of  the 
City  of  .London,  which  are  a  great 
,4presg*vation  of  men's  houses  in  the 
night. 

Sir  William  Strickland.  The  gen- 
eral word  minstrel  will  be  best ;  for  if 
you  go  to  enumerate,  they  will  devise 
new  instruments. 

Mr.  Butler.  Music  is  a  lawful 
science,  and  I  love  it ;  but  in  regard 
you  restrain  it  to  those  places,  I  think 
the  general  word  will  serve  well 
enough. 

Mr.  Highland.  Add  singing  as  well 
as  playing. 

Colonel  Whetham.  I  hope  you  will 
not  deprive  men  of  their  voices. 

Mr.  Speaker.  Singing  is  a  natural, 
playing  an  artificial  music.   .   .   . 

Resolved,  To  agree  with  the  Com- 
mittee in  all  the  amendments.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Bampjield  offered  a  report  from 
James  Nayler's  Committee.    .   .   . 


io6 


The  Protectorate 


A  Short  history  of  Nayler' s  Life. 

...  4.  After  he  (Nayler)  had  been 
up  and  down,  he  went  to  visit  the 
Quakers  in  Cornwall,  where  he  was 
committed  as  a  wanderer.   .   .   . 

The  articles  against  him  read,  and 
summed  thus — That  he  assumed  the 
gesture,  words,  names,  and  attributes 
of  our  Saviour  Christ. 

Major-  General  Skippon.  I  do  not 
marvel  at  this  silence.  Every  man  is 
astonished  to  hear  this  report.  I  am 
glad  it  is  come  hither.  I  hope  it  will 
mind  you  to  look  about  you  now.  It 
is  now  come  to  your  doors,  to  know 
how  you  that  bear  witness  of  Christ, 
do  relish  such  things.  God's  dis- 
pleasure will  be  upon  you  if  you  do 
not  lay  out  your  especial  endeavours 
in  the  things  of  God ;  not  to  postpone 
them.  You  are  cumbered  about  many 
things,  but  I  may  truly  say  this,  unum 
necessarium. 

It  has  been  always  my  opinion,  that 
the  growth  of  these  things  is  more  dan- 
gerous than  the  most  intestine  or  foreign 
enemies.  I  have  often  been  troubled 
in  my  thoughts  to  think  of  this  tolera- 
tion [of  the  Quakers]  ;  I  think  I  may 
call  it  so.  Their  great  growth  and 
increase  is  too  notorious,  both  in  Eng- 
land and  Ireland  ;  their  principles  strike 
both  at  ministry  and  magistracy.  .  .  . 
I  am  as  tender  as  any  man,  to  lay 
impositions  upon  men's  consciences, 
but  in  these  horrid  things.  I  have 
been  always  against  laws  for  matters 
ex  post-facto  ;  but  in  this  I  am  free  to 
look  back,  for  it  is  a  special  emergency. 
This  offence  is  so  high  a  blasphemy, 
that  it  ought  not  to  be  passed.  For 
my  part,  I  am  of  opinion  that  it  is 
horrid  blasphemy.   .   .   . 

Major-  General  Boteler.  .  .  .  We 
all  sit  here,  I  hope,  for  the  glory  of 
God.  My  ears  did  tingle,  and  my 
heart  tremble,  to  hear  the  report.  I 
am  satisfied  that  there  is  too  much  of 


the  report  true.  I  have  heard  many 
of  the  blasphemies  of  this  sort  of  people, 
but  the  like  of  this  I  never  heard  of. 
The  punishment  ought  to  be  adequate 
to  the  offence.  By  the  Mosaic  law, 
blasphemers  were  to  be  stoned  to 
death.  .  .  .  For  my  part,  if  this  sen- 
tence should  pass  upon  him,  I  could 
freely  consent  to  it.   .   .   . 

They  [the  Quakers]  are  generally 
despisers  of  your  Government,  con- 
temn your  magistracy  and  ministry, 
and  trample  it  under  their  feet. 

The  magistrate  is  to  be  a  terror  unto 
evil  works.  If  we  punish  murder  and 
witchcraft,  and  let  greater  offenses  go, 
as  heresies  and  blasphemy,  which  is 
under  the  same  enumeration  ;  for  my 
part,  I  could  never  reconcile  myself 
nor  others  to  leave  out  the  latter  and 
punish  the  former  offences.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Downing.  .  .  .  You  know 
what  the  Parliament  did  with  a  Straf- 
ford in  civil  cases,  and  what  the  Par- 
liament has  done  against  corrupt  judges. 
If  ever  there  was  a  business  for  a  Par- 
liament, this  is  it.  To  supplant  your 
God,  oh,  horrid !   .   .   . 

Colonel  White.  There  is  something 
omitted  in  the  Report  which  Nayler 
said,  and  that  to  me  seemed  as  blas- 
phemous as  anything:  that  "the  old 
bottles  were  broken,  and  new  wine 
poured  in;"  intimating  that  he  is  the 
new  Christ,  and  the  old  one  laid  aside. 
...  If  you  make  the  sentence  death, 
I  think  he  very  well  deserves  it.  I 
shall  give  my  Yea.    .   .   . 

Lord  Stickland  [after  five  others 
had  spoken].  This  seems  not  reason- 
able, that  a  man  should  first  be  con- 
demned, and  then  heard.  I  would 
have  him  called  to  the  bar,  to  hear 
what  he  will  say  to  the  Report. 

Mr.  Speaker  [after  four  others]. 
If  you  call  him  to  the  bar,  and  he  deny 
it,  then  you  must  go  over  all  the  charge 
and  the  evidence.   .    .   . 


The  Protectorate 


107 


Mr.  Bampjield.  ...  If  either  you 
refer  it  back  again  to  the  Committee, 
or  call  the  party  to  the  bar,  you  must 
travel  into  all  the  evidence,  and  so 
render  the  whole  matter  fruitless.  He 
has  been  three  times  before  us,  and  the 
Committee  was  every  time  more  sat- 
isfied of  the  horridness  of  the  blas- 
phemy.  .   .   . 

Lord-  Chief-  jfustice.  .  .  .  That 
which  sticks  with  me  is,  whether  there 
is  a  witness  against  him  at  all ;  not  one 
against  him  upon  oath.    .    .   . 

Major-  General  Packer.  The  Re- 
port is  a  sufficient  charge  against  him. 

[After  18  other  speeches  the  debate 
was  adjourned  to  the  next  day.  Lord 
Lambert  had  said  about  Nayler  "  He 
was  two  years  my  quartermaster,  and 
a  very  useful  person.  We  parted  with 
him  with  great  regret.  He  was  a  man 
of  a  very  unblameable  life  and  conver- 
sation, a  member  of  a  very  sweet  society 
of  an  independent  church.  How  he 
comes  (by  pride  or  otherwise)  to  be 
puffed  up  to  this  opinion  I  cannot 
determine.  ...  I  shall  be  as  ready  to 
give  my  testimony  against  him  as  any- 
body, if  it  appear  to  be  blasphemy."] 

Dec.  6th. 

Mr.  Bampjield.  The  calling  him 
to  the  bar  is  but  a  mean  to  delay  the 
business.  .  .  .  He  confessed  that  the 
woman  [who  was  said  to  have  wor- 
shipped him]  said  these  words  and 
expressions,  which  Mr.  Piggott,  by 
Providence,  came  to  the  Committee 
and  informed ;  "  Rise  up,  my  love,  my 
dove,  my  fairest  one,  why  stayest  thou 
amongst  the  pots  ;  "  only  he  denied  the 
woman's  kissing  his  hand. 

Mr.  Croke.  .  .  .  By  all  rules  of 
law  and  justice,  you  ought  first  to  call 
him  to  the  bar;  haply  he  may  deny 
matter  of  fact,  haply  matter  of  law. 
He  may  say  it  is  not  blasphemy.   .   .   . 


Sir  Gilbert  Pickering.  I  move 
that  it  may  be  respited  till  Monday. 
It  is  now  twelve,  and  it  will  take  your 
time  so  long  that  you  will  be  forced  to 
sit  as  long  as  you  did  yesterday,  which 
will  not  agree  with  many  men's  healths 
that  are  here.   .   .   . 

Resolved,  That  Nayler  be  forthwith 
called  to  the  bar  and  have  the  charge 
read  to  him,  whereunto  he  is  to  give 
his  answer  Yea  or  No.   .   .   . 

James  Nayler  being  brought  to  the 
bar,  refused  to  kneel  or  to  put  off  his 
hat.  The  House  agreed  beforehand 
that  they  would  not  insist  upon  his 
kneeling  .  .  .  but  commanded  the  Ser- 
jeant to  take  off  his  hat. 

[After  the  hearing.] 

Sir  William  Strickland.  Nothing 
has  been  reported  from  the  Committee, 
but  is,  to  a  grain,  agreed  by  the  party's 
own  confession  at  the  bar.  .  .  .  You 
have  now  hell  groaning  under  expecta- 
tion of  this  issue,  what  you  will  do  in 
this  business.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Downing.  You  are  judge  and 
jury.  You  have  heard  the  prisoner  at 
the  bar,  and  will  you  leave  the  business 
in  the  midst,  after  issue  joined?  .  .  . 
Are  not  juries  kept  without  meat  and 
drink  ;  yea,  carried  from  cart  to  cart, 
county  to  county,  till  they  agree  in 
lesser  matters. 

Mr.  Speaker.  I  remember  what  a 
gentleman  in  another  Parliament  said 
of  the  result  of  our  long  debates,  that 
it  was  but  as  the  verdict  of  a  starved 
jury.  It  will  not  be  so  with  us,  for 
many  members  have  dined,  though 
others  fast.   .   .   . 

Dec.  8. 

Lord  Whitlock  [author  of  the  "Me- 
morials"]. ...  To  give  a  judgment 
in  point  of  life,  no  law  being  in  force 
to  that  purpose,  my  humble  opinion  is, 
to  go  by  way  of  bill.   .   .   .  The  Grand 


io8 


The  Protectorate 


Committee,  if  you  please,  may  appoint 
the  punishment.  .  .  .  The  like  case 
was  the  Bishop  of  Rochester's  cook, 
who,  by  Act  of  Parliament,  had  new 
punishment  appointed  him  (i.  e.)  to 
be  boiled  in  a  hot  lead.   .   .   . 

Major  Beake.  I  conceive  you  ought 
first  to  determine  the  offence,  what  it 
is,  and  then  prepare  a  proportionable 
punishment.  ,  .  .  I  conceive  the  judg- 
ment of  Parliament  is  so  sovereign, 
that  it  may  declare  that  to  be  an  offence 
which  never  was  an  offence  before. 
The  Roman  senate  did  the  like  in  cases 
of  parricide.    .   .   . 

Captain  Baynes.  .  .  .  You  saw 
how  he  behaved  himself  at  the  bar. 
Not  a  cap  to  you,  though  ye  be  gods  in 
one  sense ;  yet  he  will  take  cap,  knee, 
kisses,  and  all  reverence.  His  distinc- 
tion of  visible  and  invisible  makes  his 
blasphemy  plain.  .  .  .  God  could  have 
made  him  a  pillar  of  salt  immediately, 
if  he  had  pleased;  have  stimck  him 
dead,  but  he  has  left  it  to  you  to  vindi- 
cate his  honour  and  glory.  Now  see 
what  you  will  do.  This  is  the  day  of 
temptation  and  trial  of  your  zeal.   .   .   . 

Lord  President.  This  gentleman 
has  spoken  very  zealously,  yet  they 
were  honest  men,  too,  that  called  for 
fire  from  Heaven,  and  we  know  how 
they  were  reproved.  I  have  lived  some 
time  in  the  world,  and  seen  what  is 
abroad,  and  how  careful  wise  men 
have  been  in  proceeding  in  this  kind. 

I  wonder  why  any  man  should  be  so 
amazed  at  this.  Is  not  God  in  every 
horse,  in  every  stone,  in  every  creature? 
...  If  you  hang  every  man  that  says, 
Christ  is  in  you  the  hope  of 'glory,  you 
will  hang  a  good  many.  .  .  .  Read  the 
Report  over,  and  let  every  man  give  his 
reasons  why  such  a  part  is  blasphemy. 

Major  General  Skippon.  By  the 
rule  that  this  honourable  person  offers, 
none  shall  meddle  at  all  in  matters  of 
religion.   .   .   . 


Mr.  Bacon.  ...  It  is  much  contro- 
verted here,  whether  a  law  maybe  made 
for  a  matter  ex  post  facto.  Nothing 
more  ordinary  in  a  Parliament.  Was  it 
not  the  case  of  the  Bishop  of  Rochester's 
cook?  He  made  broth  which  poisoned 
all  the  family,  and  the  beggars  at  the 
gates.  Here  was  a  law  made,  both  fc>r 
the  offence  and  the  punishment.   .   .   . 

Colonel  Sydenham.  .  .  .  These 
Quakers,  or  Familists,  affirm  that 
Christ  dwells  personally  in  every  be- 
liever. That  which  I  fear  is,  to  draw 
this  down  into  precedent,  for,  by  the 
same  ground,  you  may  proceed  against 
all  of  that  sect.  Again,  that  which 
sticks  most  with  me,  is  the  nearness  of 
this  opinion  to  that  which  is  a  most 
glorious  truth,  that  the  spirit  is  person- 
ally in  us.  ...  If  some  of  those  Par- 
liaments were  sitting  in  our  places,  I 
believe  they  would  condemn  most  of 
us  for  heretics.  ...  I  fear  this  long 
debate  will  make  them  without  say, 
one  half  of  the  House  are  Quakers, 
the  other  half,  anti-Quakers.    .   .   . 

Dr.  Clarges  [after  six  others].  .  .  . 
You  have  here  before  you  the  greatest 
matter  that  ever  came  before  a  Parlia- 
ment. ...  I  shall  speak  no  more ;  but 
let  us  all  stop  our  ears,  and  stone  him 
— for  he  is  guilty  of  horrid  blasphemy ; 
nothing  so  apparent.   .   .   . 

Resolved  [after  3 1  other  speeches] 
that  this  debate  be  adjourned  till  to- 
morrow morning. 

Dec.  16.  [After  11  days  of  heated 
discussion.] 

Colonel  White.  There  has  been 
enough  said  in  this  business.  I  de- 
sire you  would  put  some  Question  or 
other.   ... 

The  question  for  the  lesser  punish- 
ment being  read. 

Colonel  White  proposed  that  his 
tongue  might  be  bored  through. 

Colonel  Barclay,  that  his  hair  might 
be  cut  off. 


The  Protectorate 


109 


Major-  General  Haines,  that  his 
tongue  might  be  slit  or  bored  through, 
and  that  he  might  be  stigmatized  with 
the  letter  B.   .    .   . 

Major-  General  Whalley.  Do  not 
cut  off  his  hair ;  that  will  make  the 
people  believe  that  the  Parliament  of 
England  are  of  opinion  that  our  Sav- 
iour Christ  wore  his  hair  so,  and  this 
will  make  all  people  in  love  with  the 
fashion.   .   .   . 

Major-  General  Disbrowe.  I  doubt 
if  you  slit  his  tongue,  you  may  endan- 
ger his  life.  It  will  be  a  death  of  a 
secret  nature. 

Mr.  Downing  You  ought  to  do 
something  with  that  tongue  that  has 
bored  through  God.  You  ought  to 
bore  his  tongue  through.  You  punish 
a  swearer  so,  and  have  some  whipped 
through   an   affront   to  your  members. 

Major  Audley.  It  is  an  ordinary 
punishment  for  swearing.  I  have 
known  twenty  bored  through  'the 
tongue. 

Resolved.  That  his  tongue  be  bored 
through. 

Resolved.  That  he  be  marked  with 
the  letter  B,  in  the  forehead. 

Major- General  Whalley  proposed, 
that  his  lips  might  be  slitted. 

Alderman  Foote,  that  his  head  may 
be  in  the  pillory,  and  that  he  be 
whipped  from  Westminster  to  the  Old 
Exchange.    .   .   . 

Colonel  Cromwell,  that  he  may  be 
whipped  through  the  whole  City  from 
Westminster  to  Aldgate. 

Major-  General  Goffe,  that  he  may 
also  be  restrained  from  society  of 
women,  as  well  as  from  men.   .   .   . 

Colonel  Shapcot,  that  his  Bridewell 
may  be  at  York,  whence  he  came. 

Mr.  Speaker  and  Sir  Wm.  Strick- 
land. He  came  not  thence.  I  shall 
put  it  upon  Bristol.   .  .   . 


Sir  Gilbert  Pickering.  Either  be 
strict  in  this  or  you  do  nothing,  for 
certainly  this  of  Quakerism  is  as  in- 
fectious as  the  plague.  And  that  not 
only  men,  but  women  be  kept  from 
him.  I  have  told  you,  it  is  a  woman 
that  has  done  all  the  mischief. 

Mr.  Puller  proposed,  that  he  might 
be  sent  to  Jamaica.   .   .   . 

Sir  William  Strickland.  ...  I 
desire,  rather,  that  he  might  be  sent 
to  Bristol. 

Mr.  Highland.  Those  that  come 
out  of  the  North,  are  the  greatest  pests 
of  the  nation.  The  diggers  came 
thence. 

Mr.  Robinson.  I  hope  that  gentle- 
man does  not  mean  by  his  pests,  all 
that  come  thence.  He  means  not  us, 
I  hope.   .   .   . 

Resolved,  that  London  be  the  place. 

Resolved,  that  James  Nayler  be  set 
on  the  pillory,  with  his  head  in  the 
pillory,  in  the  New  Palace  Westmin- 
ster, during  the  space  of  two  hours  on 
Thursday  next,  and  be  whipped  by 
the  hangman  through  the  streets  of 
Westminster  to  the  old  Exchange, 
London  ;  and  there  likewise,  to  be  set 
upon  the  pillory  ...  in  each  of  the 
said  places,  wearing  a  paper  contain- 
ing an  inscription  of  his  crimes :  and 
that  at  the  old  Exchange,  his  tongue 
shall  be  bored  through  with  a  hot  iron, 
and  that  he  be  there  also  stigmatized 
.  .  .  and  that  he  be,  afterwards,  sent 
to  Bristol  and  conveyed  into  and 
through  the  said  city,  on  a  horse  bare 
ridged,  with  his  face  back  .  .  .  and 
.  .  .  that  he  be  committed  to  prison 
in  Bridewell,  London,  and  kept  to 
hard  labour  till  he  be  released  by  the 
Parliament :  and,  during  that  time,  be 
debarred  of  the  use  of  pen,  ink,  and 
paper,  and  have  no  relief  but  what  he 
earns  by  his  daily  labour. 


I  IO 


The  Protectorate 


Dec.  25th. 

.  .  .  Col.  Matthews.  The  House 
is  thin ;  much,  I  believe,  occasioned 
by  observation  of  this  day.  I  have  a 
short  Bill  to  prevent  the  superstition 
for  the  future.     I  desire  it  to  be  read. 

Mr.  Robinson.  I  could  get  no  rest 
all  night  for  the  preparation  of  this 
foolish  day's  solemnity.  .  .  .  We  are, 
I  doubt,  returning  to  Popery. 

Sir  William  Strickland.  It  is  a 
very  fit  time  to  offer  the  Bill,  this  day, 
to  bear  your  testimony  against  it,  since 
people  observe  it  with  more  solemnity 
than  they  do  the  Lord's  day.   .   .   . 

Major-  General  Packer,  Major 
Audley,  and  Sir  Gilbert  Pickering. 
.  .  .  You  see  how  the  people  keep  up 
these  superstitious  observations  to  your 
face.  .  .  .  One  may  pass  from  the 
Tower  to  Westminster  and  not  a  shop 
open,  nor  a  creature  stirring.   .   .   . 


Dec.  26th. 

Mr.  Speaker.  ...  I  must  acquaint 
you  with  a  letter  from  the  Lord  Pro- 
tector. 

"  Having  taken  notice  of  a  sentence 
by  you,  given  against  one  James  Nay- 
ler,  albeit  we  do  abhor  such  wicked 
opinions  and  practices,  we,  being  in- 
terested in  the  Government,  desire  to 
know  the  grounds  and  reasons  how 
you  proceeded  herein  without  our  con- 
sent." [Consternation  in  the  House. — 
Ed.] 

.  .  .  Major  Audley.  You  ought 
not  to  have  denied  this  person  [Nay- 
ler]  to  have  spoken  when  he  desired 
it  at  the  bar.  Were  he  never  so 
wicked,  you  ought  to  give  him  the 
liberty  of  an  Englishman.  I  am  sat- 
isfied, that  though  you  have  passed  this 
sentence  upon  him,  there  may  be  much 
said  against  it.  If  he  had  been  left  to 
the  law,  it  had  been  better.   .   .   . 


Mr.  Lawrence  .  .  .  questioned  the 
jurisdiction.  He  said  there  were  but 
three  powers ;  arbitrary,  we  would  not 
own;  legislative,  is  upon  a  joint  au- 
thority by  the  Instrument.  If  by  a 
judicatory  power,  we  must  have  a 
law ;  otherwise  our  proceedings  are 
not  justifiable.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Rouse.  .  .  .  Either  you  have 
done  what  you  ought  to  have  done  in 
executing  part  of  your  sentence,  or 
you  have  not.  .  .  .If  you  have  done 
what  you  cannot  justify,  you  must  be 
whipped  for  whipping  James  Nayler. 
It  was  but  a  mock  punishment. 

Colonel  Holland.  A  merchant's 
wife  told  me  that  there  was  no  skin 
left  between  his  shoulders  and  his  hips. 
It  was  no  mock  punishment.  I  could 
wish  the  business  were  ended  amongst 
you,  that  the  remainder  of  the  punish- 
ment might  be  remitted,  and  that  would 
give  his  Highness  satisfaction. 

Sir  Christopher  Peck.  I  shall  ac- 
quaint you  with  what  the  gaoler  told 
me.  There  were  but  three  places  where 
the  skin  was  any  way  hurt  or  broken, 
and  it  was  no  bigger  than  a  pin's  head, 
This  gentleman  is  surely  misinformed. 

Colonel  Hewitson  proposed,  that  a 
Committee  might  be  appointed  to  find 
out  a  way  how  to  give  his  Highness  an 
account  in  this  business.  If  the  person 
was  favoured  in  the  punishment,  it 
was  the  lenity  of  the  executioner,  not 
of  the  sentence.  /  was  against  it  in  my 
opinion. 

Sir  William  Strickland.  It  is  not 
possible  for  us  to  stop  the  foul  mouths 
of  such  a  wicked  generation.  We  are 
convinced  of  the  justice  of  our  pro- 
ceedings.  .   .   . 

Mr.  Downing.  I  am  sorry  we  have 
such  a  person  in  England  as  James  Nay- 
ler, to  give  us  all  this  trouble.  Those 
that  think  his  Highness' s  letter  seems  to 
question  why  we  passed  this  sentence 
without  his  consent,  are  mistaken.   .   .   . 


The   Protectorate 


ii  i 


Sir  John  Reynolds.  ...  I  think 
there  was  nothing  of  the  punishment 
spared.  .  .  .  That  is  not  the  dispute 
before  us.  I  would  have  us  seriously 
to  debate  this  matter,  that  we  may  give 
his  Highness  an  account  of  it.  The 
consequence  is  dangerous,  if  we  should 
draw  these  things  into  precedent. 

Captain  Baynes.  I  was  against 
bringing  this  business  into  the  House 
at  the  first.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Solicitor-  General.  .  .  .  The 
whole  question  before  you  is,  why  a 
judgment,  without  my  Lord  Protector? 
The  letter  says,  why  a  judgment  with- 
out us.  "  We  desire,"  saith  the  letter, 
"  to  know  the  grounds  and  reasons 
whereupon  you  made  such  a  judgment." 
I  desire  that  we  might  have  leave  to 
speak  against  your  judgment. 

Mr.  Godfrey.  This  gentleman 
moves  very  properly  to  have  leave  to 
speak  against  the  judgment.  If  you 
give  this  leave  I  cannot  but  tremble  to 
think  of  the  consequence.  I  am  sorry 
this  happens,  for  you  to  go  about  to 
arraign  your  own  judgment.  ...  If 
you  revoke  this,  you  must  not  only  cry 
peccdvi  to  James  Nayler  for  what  is 
passed,  but  to  his  Highness  also,  and 
also  to  the  nation.  Here  is  your  power 
asserted  on  one  hand  ;  the  supreme  mag- 
istrate, on  the  other  hand,  desiring  an 
account  of  your  judgment.  Where 
shall  there  be  tertius  arbiter  t  It  is 
a  hard  case.  No  judge  upon  earth. 
I  shall  humbly  move  that  a  Committee 
might  be  appointed  to  acquaint  his 
Highness  with  the  sad  consequences  of 
such  a  dispute,  and  to  desire  him  to 
lay  aside  the  further  questioning  of 
this  judgment. 

Mr.  Attorney-  General.  We  are 
bound  up  by  our  own  judgment.  We 
cannot  speak  against  it,  nor  against  the 
fact.  You  have  asserted  your  judica- 
tory power.  This  is  the  first  case.  It  is 
good  it  were  now  settled.     I  hear  his 


Highness  plead  nothing  for  the  fel- 
low. I  think  it  were  best  first  to  whip 
him  and  then  bring  in  a  Bill  to  hang 
him.      [A  witticism  ? — Ed.]   .   .   . 

Mr.  Fowell.  .  .  .  The  House  of 
Commons  have,  by  their  judicatory,, 
liberty  to  pass  greater  sentences  than 
this.  .  .  .  There  was  a  case  in  the  latter 
end  of  King  James's  time  where  one 
Floyd  abused  the  Queen  of  Bohemia. 
.  .  .  The  House  of  Commons,  of  their 
own  jurisdiction,  proceeded  to  sentence 
him  to  ride  backwards  on  a  horse,  with 
a  paper,  etc.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Robinson.  This  is  the  most 
unfortunate  business  that  ever  came  into 
this  House.  I  was  against  it,  at  first 
.  .  .  but  I  am  not  satisfied  to  give  way 
to  speak  against  the  judgment. 

Mr.  Goodwin.  ...  I  have  heard  of 
a  Parliament  called  Insanum  Parlia- 
mentum.  I  wonder  what  his  Highness 
will  think  of  us,  if  we  should  not  as- 
sert our  jurisdiction.  If  we  should  rise 
without  asserting  our  power,  James 
Nayler  may  have  his  action  against 
every  individual  member.  Let  us  be- 
have ourselves  like  wise  men.  We 
have  passed  a  judgment,  and  owned  the 
jurisdiction.     Let  us  not  part  with  it. 

Mr.  Rotcse.  We  should  return  this 
short  answer  to  his  Highness' s  letter, 
"  We  had  power  so  to  do."  .  .  . 

Mr.  Downing.  My  heart  is  very 
full  in  this  business.  .  .  .  We  need 
not  dispute  our  jurisdiction  ourselves. 
There  are  enough  to  dispute  it.  The 
Instrument  of  Government  is  but  new, 
and  our   jurisdiction    is  but  new,  too. 

Mr.  Highland.  ...  If  you  assert 
not  your  own  power,  you  will  be  a 
matter  of  laughter,  both  to  wise  men 
and  fools. 

Dec.  27, 

Colonel  Mark  ham.  ...  It  is  an 
abominable  thing  to  hear  such  unjust 
things  informed  to  this  House,  as  that 


I  12 


The  Protectorate 


of  his  whipping  so  hard,  or  his  being 
sick.  I  would  have  the  merchant's 
wife  that  reported  it  sent  for  and 
whipped.  ...  I  desire  you  would  be 
so  tender  of  your  honour  as  to  put  that 
question. 

Lord  Lambert.  Calmness  better  be- 
comes this  House.  I  like  not  these 
reflections.  I  desire  the  gentleman  may 
explain  himself. 

Colonel  Mark  ham  stood  up  to  jus- 
tify himself,  and  said  he  reflected  upon 
no  member,  but  only  upon  the  mer- 
chant's wife.   .   .   . 

Resolved,  that  the  House  be  ad- 
journed till  Tuesday.   .   .   . 


The  Committee  for  Mr.  Scot  and  his 
wicked  wife  sat  in  the  painted  cham- 
ber. Mr.  Godfrey  had  the  chair  (who 
once  intended  to  have  hanged  her  in 
the  country.)  Both  parties  appeared: 
She  said,  "  How  do  you  do,  Mr. 
Scot? "  He  answered  little  :  no  sweet- 
heart, dear,  nor  angel.  This  Com- 
mittee adjourned  till  this  day  se'n- 
night.   .    .   . 

This  day  B.  and  I  were  to  see  Nay- 
ler's  tongue  bored  through,  and  him 
marked  in  the  forehead.  He  put  out 
his  tongue  very  willingly,  but  shrinked 
a  little  when  the  iron  came  upon  his 
forehead.  He  was  pale  when  he  came 
out  of  the  pillory,  but  high-coloured 
after  tongue-boring.  He  was  bound 
with  a  cord  by  both  arms  to  the  pil- 
lory. Rich,  the  mad  merchant,  sat 
bare  at  Nayler's  feet  all  the  time. 
Sometimes  he  sang  and  cried,  and 
stroked  his  hair  and  face,  and  kissed 
his  hand,  and  sucked  the  fire  out  of  his 
forehead.  Nayler  embraced  his  execu- 
tioner, and  behaved  himself  very  hand- 
somely and  patiently.  A  great  crowd 
of  people  there. 

[After  much  more  excited  debating 
about  the  judicial  power  of  the  Parlia- 


ment and  the  answer  to  be  returned  to 
Cromwell,  the  matter  is  suddenly 
dropped.  The  Protector  must  have 
raised  his  wand.  On  Friday,  Jan.  2, 
specially  appointed  for  continuing  the 
discussion,  there  is  this  irrelevant 
notice  :  "  Resolved,  that  Judge  Law- 
rence and  Colonel  Talbot  be  added  to 
the  Scotch  Committee.  Thus  was  the 
business  of  the  day  jostled  out,  and 
nobody  said  a  word  to  it.  L  hear  it 
will  never  be  mentioned  again;  if  it 
be,  I  dread  the  consequence.  Absit." 
—Ed.]    .   .    .        

Jan.  14th,  1656-7. 
.   .   .   Robinson     presented    Hobbe's 
Leviathan  to  the  Committee,  as  a  most 
poisonous  piece  of  atheism.   .   .   . 

Jan.  19.   .   .   . 

Sir  Gilbert  Pickering  and  Major- 
General  Boteler,  moved  that  Wednes- 
day afternoon  may  be  the  time  ap- 
pointed to  wait  upon  his  Highness,  the 
whole  House,  to  congratulate  his  deliv- 
erance [from  one  of  the  many  attempts 
to  assassinate  him].   .   .   . 

Sir  Gilbert  Pickering.  .  .  .  There 
was  a  very  good  pattern  propounded  to 
us  as  to  the  manner  of  addresses  to  his 
Highness,  upon  another  occasion,  about 
three  or  four  months  ago.  I  confess  I 
liked  that  method  well.  ...  It  was 
Major-General  Goffe,  upon  the  debate 
about  the  thanksgiving  for  the  late  vic- 
tory from  Spain.  .  It  was  a  long  im- 
peachment, seriously  inviting  the  House 
to  a  firm,  and  a  kind  of  corporal  union 
with  his  Highness.  Something  was 
expressed  as  to  hanging  about  his  neck 
like  pearls,  from  a  text  out  of  Canti- 
cles. [  Thy  neck  is  like  the  tower  of 
David  .  .  .  whereon  there  hang  a 
thousand  bucklers. — Ed.]    .   .   . 

Mr.  Ashe,  the  elder.  ...  I 
would  have  something  else  added, 
which,  in  my  opinion,  would  tend  very 


The  Protectorate 


ii3 


much  to  the  preservation  of  himself 
and  us,  and  to  the  quieting  of  all  the 
designs  of  our  enemies  ; — that  his  High- 
ness would  be  pleased  to  take  upon 
him  the  government  according  to  the 
ancient  constitution  [i.  e.,  become  king. 
Ed.]  ;  so  that  the  hopes  of  our  ene- 
mies' plots  would  be  at  an  end.  Both 
our  liberties  and  peace,  and  the  preser- 
vation and  privilege  of  his  Highness, 
would  be  founded  upon  an  old  and  sure 
foundation.   .    .   . 

Mr.  Highland.  That  gentleman 
that  moved  this  was  one  of  those  that 
was  for  the  pulling  down  of  what  he 
would  now  set  up  again.  That  was 
Kings,  Lords  and  Commons ;  a  consti- 
tution which  we  have  pulled  down 
with  our  blood  and  treasure.  Will  you 
make  the  Lord  Protector  the  greatest 
hypocrite  in  the  world  ?  .  .  .  I  desire 
this  motion  may  die,  as  abominable. 
This  will  set  all  the  honest  people  of 
this  nation  to  weeping  and  mourning. 

.  .  .  The  debate  fell  asleep,  I  know 
not  how,  but  I  believe  it  was  by  con- 
sent, (as  I  heard  Mr.  Nathaniel  Bacon 
and  others  say,  as  they  came  out)  and 
only  started  by  way  of  probation.  I 
have  not  seen  so  hot  a  debate  vanish  so 
strangely,  like  an  ignis fatuus.    .    .    . 

March  7th. 

...  I  suppose  you  have  heard  of 
the  Address  made  by  100  officers,  to 
his  Highness,  yesterday  se'nnight,  that 
his  Highness  would  not  hearken  to  the 
title  (king)  because  it  was  not  pleasing 
to  his  army,  and  was  matter  of  scandal 
to  the  people  of  God,  of  great  rejoicing 
to  the  enemy ;  that  it  was  hazardous  to 
his  own  person,  and  of  great  danger  to 
the  three  nations ;  such  an  assumption 
making  way  for  Charles  Stewart  to 
come  in  again. 

His  Highness  returned  answer  pres- 
ently to  this  effect, — that  the  first  man 
that  told  him  of  it,  was  he,  the  mouth 


of  the  officers  then  present  (meaning 
Colonel  Mills)  ;  that,  for  his  part  he 
had  never  been  at  any  cabal  about  the 
same  (hinting  by  that,  the  frequent 
cabals  that  were  against  Kingship  by 
certain  officers).  He  said,  the  time 
was,  when  they  boggled  not  at  the 
word,  (king),  for  the  Instrument  by 
which  the  Government  now  stands, 
was  presented  to  his  Highness  with  the 
title  (king)  in  it,  as  some  there  present 
could  witness,  pointing  at  a  principal 
officer,  then  in  his  eye,  and  he  refused 
to  accept  of  the  title.  But,  how  it 
comes  to  pass  that  they  now  startle  at 
that  title,  they  best  knew.  That,  for 
his  part,  he  loved  the  title,  a  feather  in 
a  hat  [Ludlow:  "Cromwell  said  it 
was  but  a  feather  in  a  man's  cap,  and 
therefore  wondered  that  men  would 
not  please  the  children  and  permit  them 
to  enjoy  their  rattle."]  as  little  as 
they  did.  That  they  had  made  him 
their  drudge  upon  all  occasions;  to  dis- 
solve the  Long  Parliament,  who  had 
contracted  evil  enough  by  long  sitting ; 
to  call  a  Parliament,  or  Convention  of 
their  naming,  who  met ;  and  what  did 
they?  fly  at  liberty  and  property,  inso- 
much as  if  one  man  had  twelve  cows, 
they  held  another  that  wanted  cows 
ought  to  take  share  with  his  neighbour. 
Who  could  have  said  anything  was 
their  own,  if  they  had  gone  on  ?  .  .  . 
It  is  time  to  come  to  a  settlement,  and 
lay  aside  arbitrary  proceedings,  so  un- 
acceptable to  the  nation.  And  by  the 
proceedings  of  this  Parliament,  you  see 
they  stand  in  need  of  a  check,  or  bal- 
ancing power  (meaning  the  House  of 
Lords,  or  a  House  so  constituted)  for 
the  case  of  James  Nayler  might  happen 
to  be  your  own  case.  By  their  judicial 
power  they  fall  upon  life  and  member, 
and  doth  the  Instrument  enable  me  to 
control  it? 

These  were  some  of  the  heads,  insisted 
on  in  his  speech,  though  perhaps  not  the 


H4 


The  Protectorate 


same  words,  yet  the  full  sense  ;  and  the 
officers  since  that  time  are  quieted,  and 
many  fallen  from  the  rest.  .  .  .  [The 
negotiations  on  this  subject  were  inter- 
minable. See  Carlyle,  who  devotes  half 
a  volume  to  them. — Ed.  J 


June  20,  1657. 

.  .  .  Mr.  Bampfield,  Major-  Gen- 
eral Whalley,  and  Mr.  Vincent  moved, 
that  the  Bill  for  the  Sabbath  might  be 
read.   .   .   . 

Colonel  Holland.  We  have  but  too 
many  penal  laws,  and  100  clauses  of 
that  kind  may  well  be  repealed.  These 
laws  are  always  turned  upon  the  most 
godly.  This  is  very  strict,  as  to  that  of 
unnecessary  walking,  and  coming  into 
men's  houses.  The  last  Bill  for  the 
Lord's  Day,  I  remember,  was  passed 
on  a  Saturday  and  carried  on  with  great 
zeal.  Then  I  told  them  they  had  tied 
men  from  coming  to  church  by  water 
or  coach.  Next  day,  I,  coming  to 
Somerset  House  to  sermon,  had  my 
boat  and  waterman  laid  hold  on  for  the 
penalty.   .   .   . 

Lord  Chief-Justice  Glynn.  I  move 
against  the  clause  for  entering  into 
men' s  houses.  It  may  be  a  snare  to  all 
the  nation ;  and  knaves,  in  the  night- 
time, may  enter  and  rob  men's  houses 
under  this  Pretence.  When  an  Act  of 
Parliament  gives  a  liberty  of  entry,  then 
a  man  may  break  open  doors. 

Mr.  Grove.  The  constable's  voice 
is  well  known,  and  no  man  can  be 
robbed  under  that  pretence. 

Mr.  Godfrey  moved  a  proviso,  to 
limit  the  officers'  entry  only  to  taverns, 
inns,  etc.    .    .    . 

Mr.  Vincent  and  Colonel  Chadwick 
were  not  satisfied  with  the  proviso.  It 
was  too  shoit;  for,  now  a-days,  the 
greatest  disorders  were  in  private  houses, 
by  sending  thither  for  drink.   .   .   . 


Sir  Christopher  Pack.  I  move  that 
cooks'   houses  be  comprehended.   .   .  . 

Lord  Whitlock.  I  am  against  all 
liberty  of  this  kind,  to  enter  men's 
houses.  The  law  has  always  been 
tender  of  men's  houses.  I  would  not 
have  the  people  of  England  enslaved. 

Mr.  West.  I  except  against  the 
words  in  the  Bill,  "  idle  sitting,  openly, 
at  gates  or  doors,  or  elsewhere;"  and 
"  walking  in  church-yards  etc."  .  .  . 
Let  a  man  be  in  what  posture  he  will, 
your  penalty  finds  him.    .   .   . 

Mr.  Godfrey.  I  move  to  leave  out 
the  words,  "  profane  and  idle  sitting ;" 
for  this  joins  issue  between  the  officer 
and  the  party,  and  puts  a  plea  in  the 
party' s  mouth  which  is  not  triable.  He 
will  say  he  is  talking  or  meditating 
about  good  things.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Powell.  I  move  to  leave  out 
the  whole  clause.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Bodurda.  .  .  .  Some  persons 
have  not  conveniency  to  sit  at  doors  ;  so 
I  would  have  you  add  more  to  it,  viz.  : 
"  leaning  or  standing  at  doors." 

Mr.  Vincent.  Though  the  law 
seems  a  little  strict  in  this  clause,  yet 
this  clause  is  not  to  be  derided.  I  can- 
not think  such  sitting  at  doors,  as  is 
usual,  can  be  a  sanctification  of  the 
Lord's  day.  I  would  have  the  question 
divided.  First  put  it  upon  working, 
and  then  upon  sitting  at  doors. 

The  Master  of  the  Rolls.  ...  In 
some  parts  of  this  city,  unless  people 
have  liberty  to  sit  at  doors,  you  deprive 
them  of  most  of  the  air  they  have  all 
the  week,  and  destroy  their  children. 
Lord  Chief -Justice.  ( Quatenus 
ipsum.)  It  is  most  certain  that  there  is 
no  unlawfulness  or  guilt  in  single  sitting 
at  doors.  It  must  be  the  same  as  within 
doors.  It  is  but  intended  for  example's 
sake.  .  .  .  You  put  a  negative  pregnant 
upon  a  man,  to  say  that  sitting  at  the 
door  is  more  profane  than  standing ;  so 


The  Protectorate 


US 


there  is  no  such  derision  in  that.  It 
may  cause  discord,  and  prying  amongst 
neighbours,  into  the  actions  of  one 
another.  And  this  is  still  left  in  the 
judgment  of  constables  and  head- 
boroughs,  who  are  generally  bad  all 
the  nation  over.   .   .   . 

Colonel  Briscoe.  .  .  .  Man's  law 
must  not  be  too  severe,  but  rational : 
that  men  may  be  convinced  of  the 
reason  of  it.  I  would  not  have  laws  too 
rigid. 

Major  Burton.  You  had  as  good 
leave  out  the  whole  Bill  as  leave  out 
this  clause. 


Mr.  West.  You  would  not  leave 
out  the  word  "elsewhere;"  for  there 
may  be  profaneness,  by  sitting  under 
some  eminent  tree  in  a  village,  or  an 
arbour,  or  Gray's-Inn  walks. 

The  whole  clause  being  put  to  the 
question,  the  House  was  divided.  The 
Teas  went  forth. 

Noes  37.  Colonel  Briscoe  and  Mr. 
Williams,  Tellers. 

Teas  35.  Mr.  Rhodes  and  Mr.  All- 
sopp,  Tellers. 

So  it  passed  to  leave  it  out  [By  a 
majority  of  2  !] 


GROUP    XIV. 

THE  RETURN  AND  CORONATION  OF  CHARLES  II. 


i.  Extracts  from  Evelyn  and  Pepys. 
Evelyn. 

Oct.  22nd,  1658. 

Saw  ye  superb  funerall  of  ye  Pro- 
tector. He  was  carried  from  Somerset 
House  in  a  velvet  bed  of  state  drawn  by 
six  horses,  houss'd  with  ye  same;  the 
pall  held  by  his  new  Lords ;  Oliver 
lying  in  effigie  in  royal  robes,  and 
crown' d  with  a  crown,  sceptre  and 
globe,  like  a  king.  The  pendants  and 
guidons  were  carried  by  ye  officers 
of  the  army ;  the  Imperial  banners, 
achievements,  etc.,  by  ye  heraulds  in 
their  coates;  a  rich  caparison' d  horse, 
embroidered  all  over  with  gold ;  a 
knight  of  honour  arm'd  cap-a-pie,  and 
after  all,  his  guards,  souldiers,  and  in- 
numerable mourners.  In  this  equipage 
they  proceeded  to  Westminster :  but  it 
was  the  joyfullest  funerall  I  ever  saw, 
for  there  were  none  that  cried  but  dogs, 
which  the  soldiers  hooted  away  with  a 
barbarous  noise,  drinking  and  taking 
tobacco  in  the  streetes  as  they  went. 

Nov.  7,  1659. 
Was  publish' d  my  bold  "Apologie 
for  the  King"  in  this  time  of  danger, 
when  it  was  capital  to  speake  or  write 


in  favour  of  him.     It  was  twice  printed, 
so  universaly  it  took. 

Jan.  1 2th,  1659-60. 

Wrote  to  Col.  Morley  againe  to  de- 
clare for  his  Majesty. 

Feb.  3rd. 

Kept  ye  fast.  Generall  Monk  came 
now  to  London  out  of  Scotland,  but 
no  man  knew  what  he  would  do,  or 
declare,  yet  he  was  met  on  his  way  by 
the  gentlemen  of  all  the  counties  which 
he  pass'd,  with  petitions  that  he  would 
recall  the  old  long  interrupted  Parlia- 
ment, and  settle  the  nation  in  some 
order,  being  at  this  time  in  most  pro- 
digious confusion  and  under  no  govern- 
ment, everybody  expecting  what  would 
be  next  and  what  he  would  do. 

Feb.  10th. 

Now  were  the  gates  of  the  citty 
broken  down  by  General  Monk,  which 
exceedingly  exasperated  the  citty,  the 
souldiers  marching  up  and  down  as 
triumphing  over  it,  and  all  the  old  army 
of  the  phanatics  put  out  of  their  posts, 
and  sent  out  of  towne. 

Feb.  nth. 

A  signal  day.  Monk,  perceiving  how 
infamous  and  wretched  a  pack  of  knaves 


n6 


Charles    II 


would  have  still  usurped  the  supreame 
power,  and  having  intelligence  that  they 
intended  to  take  away  his  commission, 
repenting  of  what  he  had  don  to  ye 
citty,  and  where  he  and  his  forces  were 
quartered,  marches  to  White-hall,  dissi- 
pates that  nest  of  robbers,  and  convenes 
the  old  Parliament,  the  Rump  Parlia- 
ment (so  call'd  as  retaining  some  few 
rotten  members  of  ye  other)  being  dis- 
solved ;  and  for  joy  whereoff  were  many 
thousand  of  rumps  roasted  publicly  in 
ye  streetes  at  the  bon-fires  this  night, 
with  ringing  of  bells,  and  universal 
jubilee.      This  was  the  first  good  omen. 

From  Feb.  17th  to  April  5th  I  was 
detain' d  in  bed  with  a  kind  of  double 
tertian.  .  .  .  During  this  sicknesse  came 
divers  of  my  relations  and  friends  to 
visite  me,  and  it  retarded  my  going  into 
the  country  longer  than  I  intended ; 
however,  I  writ  and  printed  a  letter,  in 
defence  of  his  Majesty,  against  a  wicked 
forg'd  paper,  pretended  to  be  sent  from 
Bruxells  to  defame  his  Majesties  person 
and  vertues,  and  render  him  odious, 
now  when  everybody  was  in  hope  and 
expectation  of  the  General  and  Parlia- 
ment recalling  him,  and  establishing  ye 
government  on  its  antient  and  right 
basis. 

Pepys. 

March  5th,  1660. 

To  Westminster  by  water,  only  see- 
ing Mr.  Pinky  at  his  own  house,  where 
he  showed  me  how  he  had  always  kept 
the  lion  and  unicorn,  in  the  back  of  his 
chimney,  bright,  in  expectation  of  the 
king's  coming  again.  At  home  I  found 
Mr.  Hunt,  who  told  me  how  the  Par- 
liament had  voted  that  the  Covenant  be 
printed  and  hung  in  churches  again. 
Great  hopes  of  the  king  coming  again. 

6th. 
.   .   .  My  Lord  told  me,  that  there  was 
great  endeavours  to  bring  in  the  Pro- 
tector again ;  but  he  told  me,  too,  that 


he  did  believe  it  would  not  last  long  if 
he  were  brought  in,  no,  nor  the  king 
neither  (though  he  seems  to  think  that 
he  will  come  in),  unless  he  carry  him- 
self very  soberly  and  well.  Everybody 
now  drink  the  king's  health  without 
any  fear,  whereas  before  it  was  very 
private  that  a  man  dare  do  it.  Monk 
this  day  is  feasted  at  Mercer's 
Hall.   .   .   . 

1 6th. 

To  Westminster  Hall,  where  I  heard 
how  the  Parliament  had  this  day  dis- 
solved themselves,  and  did  pass  very 
cheerfully  through  the  Hall,  and  the 
Speaker  without  his  mace.  The  whole 
Hall  was  joyful  thereat,  as  well  as  them- 
selves, and  now  they  begin  to  talk  loud 
of  the  king.  To-night,  I  am  told,  that 
yesterday,  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  one  came  with  a  ladder  to 
the  Great  Exchange,  and  wiped  with  a 
brush  the  inscription  that  was  on  King 
Charles,  and  that  there  was  a  great  bon- 
fire made  in  the  Exchange,  and  people 
called  out  "  God  bless  King  Charles  the 
Second  !  " 

19th. 

All  the  discourse  nowaday  is,  that  the 
king  will  come  again,  and  for  all  I  see, 
it  is  the  wishes  of  all ;  and  all  do  believe 
that  it  will  be  so. 

April  nth. 
.  .  .  All  the  news  from  London  is 
that  things  go  on  further  towards  a 
king.  That  the  Skinner's  Company 
the  other  day  at  their  entertaining  Gen- 
eral Monk  had  took  down  the  Parlia- 
ment arms  in  their  Hall,  and  set  up  the 
king's.  My  Lord  and  I  had  a  great 
deal  of  discourse  about  the  several  cap- 
tains of  the  fleet,  and  his  interest  among 
them,  and  had  his  mind  clear  to  bring 
in  the  king.  He  confessed  to  me  that 
he  was  not  sure  of  his  own  captain,  to 
be  true  to  him,  and  that  he  did  not  like 
Captain  Stokes. 


Charles    II 


117 


22nd. 

Several  Londoners,  strangers,  friends 
of  the  captain,  dined  here,  who,  among 
other  things,  told  us  how  the  king's 
arms  are  every  day  set  up  in  houses  and 
churches,  particularly  in  Allhallows 
Church  in  Thames  Street,  John  Simp- 
son's church,  which  being  privately 
done  was  a  great  eyesore  to  his  people 
when  they  came  to  church  and  saw  it. 
Also  they  told  us  for  certain  that  the 
king's  statue  is  making  by  the  Mercer's 
Company  (who  are  bound  to  do  it)  to 
set  up  in  the  Exchange. 

May  1  st. 

To-day  I  hear  they  were  very  merry 
at  Deale,  setting  up  the  king's  flags 
upon  one  of  their  maypoles,  and  drink- 
ing his  health  upon  their  knees  in  the 
streets,  and  firing  the  guns,  which  the 
soldiers  of  the  castle  threatened,  but 
durst  not  oppose. 

2nd. 
Mr.  Dunne  from  London,  with  letters 
that  tell  us  the  welcome  news  of  the 
Parliament's  votes  yesterday,  which 
will  be  remembered  for  the  happiest 
May-day  that  hath  been  many- a  year  to 
England.  The  king's  letter  was  read 
in  the  House,  wherein  he  submits  him- 
self and  all  things  to  them,  as  to  an  Act 
of  Oblivion  to  all,  unless  they  shall 
please  to  except  any,  as  to  the  confirm- 
ing of  the  sales  of  the  king's  and 
Church  lands,  if  they  see  good.  The 
House,  upon  reading  the  letter,  ordered 
£50,000  to  be  forthwith  provided  to 
send  to  his  Majesty  for  his  present  sup- 
ply ;  and  a  committee  chosen  to  return 
an  answer  of  thanks  to  his  Majesty  for 
his  gracious  letter;  and  that  the  letter 
be  kept  among  the  records  of  the  Par- 
liament ;  and  in  all  this  not  so  much  as 
one  No.  So  that  Luke  Robinson  him- 
self stood  up  and  made  a  recantation  of 
what  he  had  done,  and  promises  to  be 
a  loyal  subject  to   his    prince   for   the 


time  to  come.  The  City  of  London 
have  put  out  a  declaration,  wherein 
they  do  disclaim  their  owning  any  other 
government  but  that  of  a  King,  Lords, 
and  Commons.  Thanks  was  given  by 
the  House  to  Sir  John  Greenville,  one 
of  the  Bedchamber  to  the  king,  who 
brought  the  letter,  and  they  continued 
bare  all  the  time  it  was  reading.  Upon 
notice  from  the  Lords  to  the  Commons, 
of  their  desire  that  the  Commons  would 
join  with  them  in  their  vote  for  King, 
Lords,  and  Commons ;  the  Commons 
did  concur,  and  voted  that  all  books 
whatever  that  are  out  against  the  Gov- 
ernment of  King,  Lords  and  Commons 
should  be  brought  into  the  House  and 
burned.  Great  joy  all  yesterday  at 
London,  and  at  night  more  bonfires 
than  ever,  and  ringing  of  bells,  and 
drinking  of  the  king's  health  upon  their 
knees  in  the  streets,  which  methinks  is 
a  little  too  much.  But  everybody 
seems  to  be  joyful  in  the  business,  in- 
somuch that  our  sea-commanders  now 
begin  to  say  so  too,  which  a  week  ago 
they  would  not  do.  And  our  seamen, 
as  many  as  had  money  or  credit  for 
drink,  did  do  nothing  else  this  evening. 
This  day  come  Mr.  North  (Sir  Dudley 
North's  son)  on  board,  to  spend  a  little 
time  here,  which  my  Lord  was  a  little 
troubled  at,  but  he  seems  to  be  a  fine 
gentleman,  and  at  night  did  play  his 
part  exceeding  well  at  first  sight. 

3rd. 
This  morning  my  Lord  showed  me 
the  King's  declaration,  and  his  letter  to 
the  two  generals,  to  be  communicated 
to  the  fleet.  The  contents  of  the  letter 
are  his  offer  of  grace  to  all  that  will 
come  in  within  forty  days,  only  except- 
ing them  that  the  Parliament  shall  here- 
after except.  That  the  sales  of  lands 
during  these  troubles,  and  all  other 
things,  shall  be  left  to  the  Parliament, 
by  which    he   will    stand.     The    letter 


n8 


Charles    II. 


dated  at  Breda,  April  4-14,  1660,  in  the 
twelfth  year  of  his  reign.  Upon  the 
receipt  of  it  this  monningby  an  express, 
Mr.  Philips,  one  of  the  messengers  of 
the  Council  from  General  Monk,  my 
Lord  summoned  a  council  of  war,  and 
in  the  meantime  did  dictate  to  me  how 
he  would  have  the  vote  ordered  which 
he  would  have  pass  this  council. 
Which  done,  ihe  commanders  all  came 
on  board,  and  the  council  sat  in  the 
coach  (the  first  council  of  war  that  had 
been  in  my  time),  where  I  read  the 
letter  and  declaration  ;  and  while  they 
were  discoursing  upon  it,  I  seemed  to 
draw  up  a  vote,  which  being  offered, 
they  passed.  Not  one  man  seemed  to 
say  no  to  it,  though  I  am  confident 
many  in  their  hearts  were  against  it. 
After  this  was  done,  I  went  up  to  the 
quarter-deck  with  my  Lord  and  the 
commanders,  and  there  read  both  the 
papers  and  the  vote  ;  which  done,  and 
demanding  their  opinion,  the  seamen 
did  all  of  them  cry  out,  "God  bless 
King  Charles  !  "  with  the  greatest  joy 
immaginable.    .    .   . 

Evelyn . 

May  3rd. 

Came  the  most  happy  tidings  of  his 
Majesty's  gracious  declaration  and  ap- 
plications to  the  Parliament,  Generall, 
and  People,  and  their  dutiful  acceptance 
and  acknowledgement,  after  a  most 
bloudy  and  unreasonable  rebellion  of 
neare  20  yeares.  Praised  be  forever  the 
Lord  of  Heaven,  who  onely  doeth  won- 
drous things,  be-cause  His  mercy  endur- 
eth  forever. 

Pepys. 

May  3rd. 

My  letters  at  night  tell  me  that  the 
House  did  deliver  their  letter  to  Sir 
John  Greenville,  in  answer  to  the 
King's  sending,  and  that  they  give  him 
£500  for  his  pains,  to  buy  him  a  jewel, 
and  that  besides  the  £50,000  ordered 


to  be  borrowed  of  the  City  for  the  pres- 
ent use  of  the  King,  the  twelve  com- 
panies of  the  City  do  give  every  one 
of  them  to  his  Majesty  as  a  present, 
£1,000. 

5th. 
.  .  .  This  evening  come  Dr.  Clarges 
to  Deal,  going  to  the  King,  where  the 
townspeople  strewed  the  streets  with 
herbs  against  his  coming,  for  joy  of  his 
going.  Never  was  there  so  general  a 
content  as  there  is  now.  I  cannot  but 
remember  that  our  parson  did,  in  his 
prayer  tonight,  pray  for  the  long  life 
and  happiness  of  our  King  and  dread 
Sovereign,  that  may  last  as  long  as  the 
sun  and  moon  endureth. 

1 6th. 
.  .  .  This  afternoon  Mr.  Edward 
Pickering  told  me  in  what  a  sad,  poor 
condition  for  clothes  and  money  the 
King  was,  and  all  his  attendants,  when 
he  came  to  him  first  from  my  Lord, 
their  clothes  not  being  worth  forty  shil- 
lings the  best  of  them.  And  how  over- 
joyed the  King  was  when  Sir  J.  Green- 
ville brought  him  some  money ;  so 
joyful,  that  he  called  the  Princess  Royal 
and  Duke  of  York  to  look  upon  it  as  it 
lay  in  the  portmanteau  before  it  was 
taken  out.   .   .   . 

17th. 
.  .  .  Before  dinner  Mr.  Edw.  Pick- 
ering and  I,W.  Howe,  Pirn  and  my  boy, 
to  Scheveling,  where  we  took  coach, 
and  so  to  the  Hague,  where  walking, 
intending  to  find  one  that  might  shew 
us  the  King  incognito,  I  met  with  Cap- 
tain Whittington  (that  had  formerly 
brought  a  letter  to  my  Lord  from  the 
Mayor  of  London),  and  he  did  promise 
me  to  do  it,  but  first  we  went  and 
dined.  At  dinner  in  came  Dr.  Cade,  a 
merry  mad  parson  of  the  King's.  And 
they  two  got  the  child  and  me  (the 
others  not  being  able  to  crowd  in)  to 
see  the  King,  who  kissed  the  child  very 


Charles  II. 


119 


affectionately.  Then  we  kissed  his,  and 
the  Duke  of  York's  and  the  Princess 
Royal's  hands.  The  King  seems  to  be 
a  very  sober  man  ;  and  a  very  splendid 
Court  he  hath  in  the  number  of  per- 
sons of  quality  that  are  about  him ; 
English  very  rich  in  habit.  From  the 
King  to  the  Lord  Chancellor,  who  did 
lie  bed-rid  of  the  gout :  he  spoke  very 
merrily  to  the  child  and  me.  After 
that,  going  to  see  the  Queen  of  Bohemia, 
[the  Winter  Queen]  I  met  Dr.  Fuller, 
whom  I  sent  to  a  tavern  with  Mr. 
Edw.  Pickering,  while  I  and  the  rest 
went  to  see  the  Queen,  who  used  us 
very  respectfully :  her  hand  we  all 
kissed.  She  seems  a  very  debonaire, 
but  a  plain  lady.   .   .   . 

2 1  st. 
.  .  .  hearing  by  letters  that  came 
hither  in  my  absence,  that  the  Parlia- 
ment had  ordered  all  persons  to  be 
secured,  in  order  to  a  trial,  that  did  sit 
as  judges  in  the  late  King's  death,  and 
all  the  officers  attending  the  Court. 
Sir  John  Lenthall  moving  in  the  House, 
that  all  that  had  borne  arms  against 
the  King  should  be  exempted  from  par- 
don, he  was  called  to  the  bar  of  the 
House,  and  after  a  severe  reproof  he 
was  degraded  his  knighthood. 

23rd. 
In  the  morning  come  infinity  of  peo- 
ple on  board  from  the  King  to  go  along 
with  him.  My  Lord,  Mr.  Crewe,  and 
others  go  on  shore  to  meet  the  King  as 
he  comes  off  from  shore,  where  Sir  R. 
Stayner,  bringing  his  Majesty  into  the 
boat,  I  hear  that  his  Majesty  did  with 
a  great  deal  of  affection  kiss  my  Lord 
upon  his  first  meeting.  The  King, 
with  the  two  Dukes  and  Queen  of  Bo- 
hemia, Princess  Royal,  and  Prince  of 
Orange,  come  on  board,  where  I  in 
their  coming  in  kissed  the  King's, 
Queen's,  and  Princess's  hands,  having 
done  the  other  before.       Infinite  shoot- 


ing off  of  the  guns,  and  that  in  a  dis- 
order on  purpose,  which  was  better 
than  if  it  had  been  otherwise.  All  day 
nothing  but  Lords  and  persons  of 
honour  on  board,  that  we  were  exceed- 
ing full.  Dined  in  a  great  deal  of  state, 
the  Royal  company  by  themselves  in 
the  coach,  which  was  a  blessed  sight 
to  see.  After  dinner  the  King  and 
Duke  altered  the  name  of  some  of  the 
ships,  viz.,  the  Nazeby,  into  Charles; 
the  Richard,  James ;  the  Speaker, 
Mary.  .  .  .  We  weighed  anchor,  and 
with  a  fresh  gale  and  most  happy 
weather  we  set  sail  for  England.  All 
the  afternoon  the  King  walked  here  and 
there,  up  and  down  (quite  contrary  to 
what  I  thought  him  to  have  been)  very 
active  and  stirring.  Upon  the  quarter- 
deck he  fell  into  discourse  of  his  escape 
from  Worcester,  where  it  made  me 
ready  to  weep  to  hear  the  stories  that 
he  told  of  his  difficulties  that  he  had 
passed  through,  as  his  travelling  four 
days  and  three  nights  on  foot,  every 
step  up  to  his  knees  in  dirt,  with  nothing 
but  a  green  coat  and  a  pair  of  country 
breeches  on,  and  a  pair  of  country  shoes 
that  made  him  so  sore  all  over  his  feet 
that  he  could  scarce  stir.  Yet  he  was 
forced  to  run  away  from  a  miller  and 
other  company,  that  took  them  for 
rogues.  His  sitting  at  table  at  one 
place,  where  the  master  of  the  house 
that  had  not  seen  him  in  eight  years, 
did  know  him,  but  kept  it  private ; 
when  at  the  same  table  there  was  one 
that  had  been  of  his  own  regiment  at 
Worcester,  could  not  know  him,  but 
made  him  drink  the  King's  health,  and 
said  that  the  King  was  at  least  four 
fingers  higher  than  he.  At  another 
place  he  was  by  some  servants  of  the 
house  made  to  drink,  that  they  might 
know  that  he  was  not  a  Roundhead, 
which  they  swore  he  was.  In  another 
place  at  his  inn,  the  master  of  the  house, 
as  the  King  was  standing  with  his  hands 


120 


Charles  II. 


upon  the  back  of  a  chair  by  the  fireside, 
kneeled  down  and  kissed  his  hand,  pri- 
vately, saying,  that  he  would  not  ask 
him  who  he  was,  but  bid  God  bless  him 
whither  he  was  going.  Then  the  diffi- 
culties in  getting  a  boat  to  get  into 
France,  where  he  was  fain  to  plot  with 
the  master  thereof  to  keep  his  design 
from  the  foreman  and  a  boy  (which 
was  all  the  ship's  company),  and  so 
get  to  Fecamp  in  France.  At  Rouen 
he  loqked  so  poorly,  that  the  people 
went  into  the  rooms  before  he  went 
away  to  see  whether  he  had  not  stole 
something  or  other. 

25th. 
By  the  morning  we  were  come  close 
to  the  land,  and  everybody  made  ready 
to  get  on  shore.  The  King  and  the 
two  Dukes  did  eat  their  breakfast  before 
they  went,  and  there  being  set  some 
ship's  diet,  they  ate  of  nothing  else  but 
pease  and  pork,  and  boiled  beef  .  .  . 
and  so  got  on  shore  when  the  King  did, 
who  was  received  by  General  Monk 
with  all  imaginable  love  and  respect  at 
his  entrance  upon  the  land  of  Dover. 
Infinite  the  crowd  of  people  and  the 
horsemen,  &itizens,  and  noblemen  of 
all  sorts.  The  Mayor  of  the  town 
came  and  gave  him  his  white  staff,  the 
badge  of  his  place,  which  the  King  did 
give  him  again.  The  Mayor  also  pre- 
sented him  from  the  town  a  very  rich 
Bible,  which  he  took,  and  said  it  was 
the  thing  that  he  loved  above  all  things 
in  the  world.  A  canopy  was  provided 
for  him  to  stand  under,  which  he  did, 
and  talked  awhile  with  General  Monk 
and  others,  and  so  into  a  stately  coach 
there  set  for  him,  and  so  away  through 
the  town  towards  Canterbury,  without 
making  any  state  at  Dover.  The  shout- 
ing and  joy  expressed  by  all  is  past 
imagination.  Seeing  that  my  Lord  did 
not  stir  out  of  his  barge,  I  got  into  a 
boat  and  so  into  his  barge.  My  Lord 
almost  transported  with  joy  that  he  had 


done  all  this  without  any  the  least  blur 
or  obstruction  in  the  world.   .   .   . 
Evelyn. 

May  29th. 

This  day  his  Majestie  Charles  the 
Second  came  to  London  after  a  sad  and 
long  exile  and  calamitous  suffering  both 
of  the  king  and  church,  being  1 7  yeares. 
This  was  also  his  birth-day,  and  with 
a  triumph  of  above  20,000  horse  and 
foote,  brandishing  their  swords  and 
shouting  with  inexpressible  joy ;  the 
wayes  strewed  with  flowers,  the  bells 
ringing,  the  streetes  hung  with  tapissry, 
fountaines  running  with  wine ;  the 
Maior,  Aldermen,  and  all  the  Compa- 
nies in  their  liveries,  chaines  of  gold  and 
banners ;  Lords  and  Nobles  clad  in 
cloth  of  silver,  gold,  and  velvet;  the 
windowes  and  balconies  all  set  with 
ladies ;  trumpets,  music,  and  myriads 
of  people  flocking,  even  so  far  as  from 
Rochester,  so  as  they  were  seven  houres 
in  passing  the  citty,  even  from  2  in  ye 
afternoone  till  9  at  night. 

I  stood  in  the  Strand  and  beheld  it, 
and  bless' d  God.  And  all  this  was  don 
without  one  drop  of  bloud  shed,  and  by 
that  very  army  which  rebell'd  against 
him;  but  it  was  ye  Lord's  doing,  for 
such  a  restauration  was  never  mention' d 
in  any  history  antient  or  modern,  since 
the  returne  of  the  Jews  from  the  Baby- 
lonish captivity ;  nor  so  joyf ull  a  day 
and  so  bright  ever  seene  in  this  nation, 
this  hapning  when  to  expect  or  effect 
it  was  past  all  human  policy. 

June  4th. 

I  was  carried  to  his  Majestie  when 
very  few  noblemen  were  with  him,  and 
kiss'd  his  hands,  being  very  graciously 
receiv'd.   .   .   . 

June  1 8th. 

Goods  that  had  been  pillag'd  frome 
White-hall  during  ye  rebellion  were 
now  daily  brought  in  and  restor'd  upon 
proclamation ;  as  plate,  hangings,  pic- 
tures, etc. 


CHARLES    II. 


^  OF    THK         ~r 

UNIVERSITY 


Charles  II. 


121 


July  5th. 

I  saw  his  Majestie  go  with  as  much 
pompe  and  splendour  as  any  earthly 
prince  could  do  to  the  greate  citty 
feast.  .   .   . 

Pepys. 

July  5th- 

This  morning  my  brother  Tom 
brought  me  my  jackanapes  coat  with 
silver  buttons.  It  rained  this  morning, 
which  makes  us  fear  that  the  glory  of 
this  day  will  be  lost ;  the  King  and 
Parliament  being  to  be  entertained  by 
the  City  to-day  with  great  pomp.  Mr. 
Hater  was  with  me  to-day,  and  I 
agreed  with  him  to  be  my  clerk. 
Being  at  Whitehall  I  saw,  the  King, 
the  Dukes,  and  all  their  attendants  go 
forth  in  the  rain  to  the  City,  and  it 
spoiled  many  a  fine  suit  of  clothes.  .  .  . 

October  13th. 

I  went  out  to  Charing  Cross,  to  see 
Major-General  Harrison  hanged,  drawn 
and  quartered ;  which  was  done  there, 
he  looking  as  cheerful  as  any  man  could 
do  in  that  condition.  He  was  pres- 
ently cut  down,  and  his  head  and  heart 
shown  to  the  people,  at  which  there 
was  great  shouts  of  joy.  It  is  said  that 
he  said  that  he  was  sure  to  come  shortly 
at  the  right  hand  of  Christ  to  judge  them 
that  now  had  judged  him  ;  and  that  his 
wife  do  expect  his  coming  again. 
Thus  it  was  my  chance  to  see  the  King 
beheaded  at  Whitehall,  and  to  see  the 
first  blood  shed  in  revenge  for  the  King 
at  Charing  Cross. 

15th. 

This  morning  Mr.  Carew  was  hanged 
and  quartered  at  Charing  Cross ;  but 
his  quarters,  by  a  great  favour,  are  not 
to  be  hanged  up. 

Evelyn. 

Oct.  17th. 
Scot,  Scroope,  Cook  and  Jones,  suf- 
fered for  the  reward  of  their  iniquities 


at  Charing  Crosse,  in  sight  of  the  place 
where  they  put  to  death  their  natural 
Prince,  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
King  his  sonn,  whom  they  also  sought 
to  kill.  I  saw  not  their  execution,  but 
met  their  quarters  mangled  and  cutt 
and  reeking  as  they  were  brought  from 
the  gallows  in  baskets  on  the  hurdle. 

0  the  miraculous  providence  of  God ! 

Pepys. 

Oct.  1 8th. 
This  morning,  it  being  expected  that 
Colonel  Hacker  and  Axtel  should  die, 

1  went  to  Newgate,  but  found  they 
were  reprieved  till  to-morrow. 

19th. 
This  morning  my  dining-room  was 
finished  with  green  serge  hanging  and 
gilt  leather,  which  is  very  handsome. 
This  morning  Hacker  and  Axtel  were 
hanged  and  quartered,  as  the  rest 
are.   .   .   . 

20th. 
.  .  .  This  afternoon,  going  through 
London,  and  calling  at  Crowe's  the 
upholsterer's  in  Saint  Bartholomew's, 
I  saw  limbs  of  some  of  our  new  traitors 
set  upon  Aldersgate,  which  was  a  sad 
sight  to  see ;  and  a  bloody  week  this 
and  the  last  have  been,  there  being  ten 
hanged,  drawn,  and  quartered. 

Evelyn. 

Jan.  30th,  1660-1. 
.  .  .  This  day  (O  the  stupendous  and 
inscrutable  judgments  of  God  ! )  were 
the  carcasses  of  those  arch  rebells 
Cromwell,  Bradshaw  the  Judge  who 
condemn' d  his  Majestie,  and  Ireton 
sonn-in-law  to  ye  Usurper,  dragg'd  out 
of  their  superb  tombs  in  Westminster 
among  the  Kings,  to  Tyburne,  and 
hanged  on  the  gallows  there  from  9  in 
ye  morning  till  6  at  night,  and  then 
buried  under  that  fatal  and  ignominious 
monument  in  a  deepe  pitt ;  thousands 
of  people  who  had  seene  them  in  all 


J22 


Charles  II 


their  pride  being  spectators.  Looke 
back  at  Nov.  22nd,  1658,*  and  be 
astonish' d!  and  feare  God  and  honor 
ye  King ;  but  meddle  not  with  them 
who  are  given  to  change !   .   .   . 

May  22nd,  1661. 
The  Scotch  Covenant  was  burnt  by 
the  common  hangman  in  divers  places 
in  London.     Oh  prodigious  change  ! 

Pepys. 

April  22nd,  166 1. 
The  King's  going  from  the  Tower 
to  Whitehall.  Up  early  and  made 
myself  as  fine  as  I  could,  and  put  on 
my  velvet  coat,  the  first  day  that  I  put 
it  on,  though  made  half  a  year  ago. 
And  being  ready,  Sir  W.  Batten,  my 
Lady,  and  his  two  daughters  and  his 
son  and  wife,  and  Sir  W.  Pen  and  his 
son  and  I,  went  to  Mr.  Young's  the 
flag-maker,  in  Cornhill ;  and  there  we 
had  a  good  room  to  ourselves,  with 
wine  and  good  cake,  and  saw  the  show 
very  well.  In  which  it  is  impossible  to 
relate  the  glory  of  this  day,  expressed 
in  the  clothes  of  them  that  rid,  and 
their  horses  and  their  horse's  clothes. 
Among  others,  my  Lord  Sandwich's 
embroidery  and  diamonds  where  not 
ordinary  among  them.  The  Knights 
of  the  Bath  was  a  brave  sight  of  itself ; 
and  their  Esquires,  among  which  Mr. 
Armiger  was  an  Esquire  of  one  of  the 
Knights.  Remarkable  were  the  two 
men  that  represented  the  two  Dukes  of 
Normandy  and  Aquitaine.  The 
Bishops  come  next  after  Barons,  which 
is  the  higher  place ;  which  makes  me 
think  that  the  next  Parliament  they 
will  be  called  to  the  House  of  Lords. 
My  Lord  Monk  rode  bare  after  the 
King,  and  led  in  his  hand  a  spare  horse, 
as  being  Master  of  the  Horse.  The 
King,  in  a  most  rich  embroidered  suit 
and  cloak,  looked  most  noble.  Wad- 
low,  the  vintner,  at  the  Devil,  in  Fleet 

♦Seepage  115. 


Street,  did  lead  a  fine  company  of  sol- 
diers, all  young  comely  men,  in  white 
doublets.  There  followed  the  Vice- 
Chamberlain,  Sir  G.  Cai'teret,  a  com- 
pany of  men  all  like  Turks ;  but  I 
know  not  yet,  what  they  are  for.  The 
streets  all  gravelled,  and  the  houses 
hung  with  carpets  before  them,  made 
brave  show,  and  the  ladies  out  of  the 
windows.  So  glorious  was  the  show 
with  gold  and  silver,  that  we  are  not 
able  to  look  at  it,  our  eyes  at  last  being 
so  much  overcome.  Both  the  King 
and  the  Duke  of  York  took  notice  of 
us,  as  they  saw  us  at  the  window. 
In  the  evening,  by  water  to  Whitehall 
to  my  Lord's,  and  there  I  spoke  with 
my  Lord.  He  talked  with  me  about 
my  suit,  which  was  made  in  France, 
and  cost  him  £200,  and  very  rich  it  is 
with  embroidery. 

Coronation   Day. 

23rd. 
About  four  I  rose  and  got  to  the 
Abbey,  where  I  followed  Sir  J.  Den- 
ham,  the  surveyor,  with  some  company 
that  he  was  leading  in.  And  with 
much  ado,  by  the  favor  of  Mr.  Cooper, 
his  man,  did  get  up  into  a  great  scaffold 
across  the  north  end  of  the  Abbey, 
where  with  a  great  deal  of  patience 
I  sat  from  past  four  till  eleven  before 
the  King  came  in.  And  a  great  pleas- 
ure it  was  to  see  the  Abbey  raised  in 
the  middle,  all  covered  with  red,  and  a 
throne  (that  is  a  chair)  and  a  foot-stool 
on  the  top  of  it ;  and  all  the  officers  of 
all  kinds,  so  much  as  the  very  fiddlers, 
in  red  vests.  At  last  comes  in  the  Dean 
and  the  Prebends  of  Westminster,  with 
the  Bishops  (many  of  them  in  cloth-of- 
gold  capes),  and  after  them  the  nobility, 
all  in  their  Parliament  robes,  which  was 
a  most  magnificent  sight.  Then  the 
Duke  and  the  King  with  sceptre  (carried 
by  my  Lord  Sandwich)  and  sword  and 
wand  before  him,  and  the  crowrt  too. 


Ch 


arles 


II. 


123 


The  King  in  his  robes,  bareheaded, 
which  was  very  fine.  And  after  all  had 
placed  themselves,  there  was  a  sermon 
and  a  service ;  and  then  in  the  Choir  at 
the  high  altar,  the  King  passed  through 
all  the  ceremonies  of  the  coronation, 
which  to  my  great  grief  I  and  most  in 
the  Abbey  could  not  see.  The  crown 
being  put  upon  his  head,  a  great  shout 
begun,  and  he  came  forth  to  the  throne, 
and  there  passed  through  more  cere- 
emonies :  as  taking  the  oaths,  and  hav- 
ing things  read  to  him  by  the  Bishop  ; 
and  his  lords  (who  put  on  their  caps 
as  soon  as  the  king  put  on  his  crown) 
and  bishops  come  and  kneeled  before 
him.  And  three  times  the  king  at  arms 
went  to  the  three  open  places  on  the 
scaffold,  and  proclaimed,  that  if  any 
one  could  show  any  reason  why  Charles 
Stewart  should  not  be  King  of  England, 
that  now  he  should  come  and  speak. 
And  a  General  Pardon  also  was  read 
by  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  medals 
flung  up  and  down  by  my  Lord  Corn- 
wallis,  of  silver,  but  I  could  not  come  by 
any.  But  so  great  was  the  noise  that  I 
could  make  but  little  of  the  music ;  and 
indeed  it  was  lost  to  every  body.  I  went 
out  a  little  while  before  the  king  had 
done  all  the  ceremonies,  and  went  round 
the  Abbey  to  Westminster  Hall  all  the 
way  within  rails,  and  10,000  people 
with  the  ground  covered  with  blue 
cloth  ;  and  scaffolds  all  the  way.  Into 
the  Hall  I  got,  where  it  was  very  fine 
with  hangings  and  scaffolds  one  upon 
another  full  of  brave  ladies ;  and  my 
wife  in  one  little  one,  on  the  right  hand. 
Here  I  stayed  walking  up  and  down, 
and  at-  last  upon  one  of  the  side  stalls  I 
stood  and  saw  the  King  come  in  with  all 
the  persons  (but  the  soldiers)  that  were 
yesterday  in  the  cavalcade  ;  and  a  most 
pleasant  sight  it  was  to  see  them  in  their 
several  robes.  And  the  King  come  in 
with  the  crown  on,  and  his  scepter  in 
his  hand,  and  a    canopy   borne  up  by 


six  silver  staves,  carried  by  Barons  of 
the  Cinque  Ports,  and  little  bells  at 
every  end.  And  after  a  long  time,  he 
got  up  to  the  farther  end,  and  all  set 
themselves  down  at  their  several  tables  ; 
and  that  was  also  a  brave  sight :  and 
the  King's  first  course  carried  up  by  the 
Knights  of  the  Bath.  And  many  fine 
ceremonies  there  was  of  the  herald's 
leading  up  people  before  him,  and  bow- 
ing ;  and  my  Lord  of  Albemarle' s  going 
to  the  kitchen  and  eating  a  bit  of  the 
first  dish  that  was  to  go  to  the  King's 
table.  But,  above  all,  was  there  three 
Lord's,  Northumberland,  and  Suffolk, 
and  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  coming 
before  the  courses  on  horseback,  stay- 
ing so  all  dinner-time,  and  at  last  bring- 
ing up  (Dymock)  the  King's  champion, 
all  in  armour  on  horseback,  with  the 
spear  and  target  carried  before  him. 
And  a  herald  proclaims,  that  if  any 
dare  deny  Charles  Stewart  to  be  lawful 
"  King  of  England,  here  was  a  cham- 
pion that  would  fight  for  him;"  and 
with  these  words,  the  champion  flings 
down  his  gauntlet,  and  all  this  he  do 
three  times  in  his  going  up  towards  the 
King's  table.  To  which  when  he  is 
come,  the  King  drinks  to  him,  and  then 
sends  him  the  cup,  which  is  of  gold, 
and  he  drinks  it  off,  and  then  rides  back 
again  with  the  cup  in  his  hand.  I  went 
from  table  to  table  to  see  the  bishops 
and  all  others  at  their  dinner,  and  was 
infinitely  pleased  with  it.  And  at  the 
Lords  table  I  met  with  William  Howe, 
and  he  spoke  to  my  Lord  for  me,  and 
he  did  give  him  four  rabbits  and  a  pullet, 
and  so  Mr.  Creed  and  I  got  Mr.  Min- 
shell  to  give  us  some  bread,  and  so  we 
at  a  stall  eat  it,  as  everybody  else  did 
what  they  could  get.  I  took  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  to  go  up  and  down, 
and  look  upon  the  ladies,  and  to  hear 
the  music  of  all  sorts,  but  above  all  the 
twenty-four  violins.  About  six  at  night 
they  had  dined,  and   I  went  up  to  my 


124 


Charles  II 


wife.  And  strange  it  is  to  think  that 
these  two  days  have  held  up  fair  till 
now  that  all  is  done,  and  the  King  gone 
out  of  the  Hall ;  and  then  it  fell  a-rain- 
ing  and  thundering  and  lightning  as  I 
have  not  seen  it  do  for  some  years ; 
which  people  did  take  great  notice  of. 
God's  blessing  of  the  work  of  these  two 
days,  which  is  a  foolery  to  take  too 
much  notice  of  such  things.  I  observed 
little  disorder  of  all  this,  only  the  King's 
footmen  had  got  hold  of  the  canopy, 
and  would  keep  it  from  the  Barons  of 
the  Cinque  Ports,  which  they  endeav- 


oured to  force  from  them  again,  but 
could  not  do  it  till  my  Lord  the  Duke 
of  Albemarle  caused  it  to  be  put  in  Sir 
R.  Pye's  hand  till  to-morrow  to  be 
decided.   .   .   . 

24th. 
At  night,  set  myself  to  write  down 
these  three  days  diary,  and  while  I  am 
about  it,  I  hear  the  noise  of  the  cham- 
bers, and  other  things  of  the  fireworks, 
which  are  now  playing  upon  the 
Thames  before  the  King;  and  I  wish 
myself  with  them,  being  sorry  not  to 
see  them. 


GROUP   XV. 

THE  PLAGUE  OF  LONDON,  1 665  A.  D. 


i.  Extracts  from  Pepys's  Diary. 

June  7th,  1665. 
The  hottest  day  that  ever  I  felt  in  my 
life.  This  day,  much  against  my  will, 
I  did  in  Drury  Lane  see  two  or  three 
houses  marked  with  a  red  cross  upon 
the  doors,  and  "  Lord  have  mercy  upon 
us!"  written  there;  which  was  a  sad 
sight  to  me,  being  the  first  of  the  kind 
that,  to  my  remembrance,  I  ever  saw. 

June  10th. 
In  the  evening  home  to  supper ;  and 
there,  to  my  great  trouble,  hear  that  the 
plague  is  come  into  the  City,  though  it 
hath,  these  three  or  four  weeks  since 
its  beginning,  been  wholly  out  of  the 
City;  but  where  should  it  begin  but  in 
my  good  friend  and  neighbour's,  Dr. 
Burnett,  in  Fenchurch  Street ;  which, 
in  both  points,  troubles  me  mightily. 

June  nth. 
I  saw  poor  Dr.  Burnett's  door  shut; 
but  he  hath,  I  hear,  gained  great  good- 
will among  his  neighbours :  for  he 
discovered  it  himself  first,  and  caused 
himself  to  be  shut  up  of  his  own  ac- 
cord ;  which  was  very  handsome. 


June  15th. 
Up,  and  put  on  my  new  stuff  suit 
with  close  knees,  which  becomes  me 
most  nobly,  as  my  wife  says.  .  .  .  The 
town  grows  very  sickly,  and  people  to 
be  afraid  of  it ;  there  dying  this  last 
week  of  the  plague  112,  from  43  the 
week  before  ;  whereof  but  one  in  Fen- 
church Street,  and  one  in  Broad  Street, 
by  the  Treasurer's  office. 

June  17th. 
It  struck  me  very  deep  this  afternoon 
going  with  a  hackney  coach  from  Lord 
Treasurer's  down  Holborn,  the  coach- 
man I  found  to  drive  easily  and  easily, 
at  last  stood  still,  and  came  down  hardly 
able  to  stand,  and  told  me  that  he  was 
suddenly  struck  very  sick,  and  almost 
blind — he  could  not  see ;  so  I  alight, 
and  went  into  another  coach,  with  a 
sad  heart  for  the  poor  man  and  for  my- 
self also  lest  he  should  have  been  struck 
with  the  plague. 

June  23rd. 
Home   by  hackney-coach,  which    is 
become  a  very  dangerous  passage  now- 
a-days,  the  sickness  increasing  mightily. 


The  Plague  of  London 


125 


June  27th. 
The  plague  increases  mightily,  I  this 
day  seeing  a  house,  at  a  bit- maker's, 
over  against  St.  Clement's  Church,  in 
the  open  street,  shut  up,  which  is  a  sad 
sight. 

June  28th. 
In  my  way  to  Westminster  Hall,  I  ob- 
served several  plague-houses  in  King's 
Street  and  near  the  Palace. 

June  29th. 
By  water   to    Whitehall,  where   the 
Court  full  of  waggons  and  people  ready 
to   go  out   of  town.     This  end  of  the 
town  every  day  grows  very  bad  of  the 
plague.     The  Mortality  Bill  is  come  to 
267,  which  is  about  ninety  more  than 
the  last ;  and  of  these  but  four  in  the 
City,  which  is  a  great  blessing  to  us. 
July  1  st. 
To  Westminster,  where    I    hear  the 
sickness  increases  greatly.     Sad  at  the 
news,    that    seven    or    eight    houses    in 
Buryinghall  Street  are  shut  up  of  the 
plague. 

July  3rd. 
The  season  growing  so  sickly,  that  it 
is  much  to  be  feared  how  a  man  can 
escape  having  a  share  with  others  in  it, 
for  which  the  good  Lord  God  bless  me  ! 
or  make  me  fitted  to  receive  it. 

July  6th. 
I  could  not  see  Lord  Brouncker,  nor 
had  much  mind,  one  of  the  two  great 
houses  within  two  doors  of  him  being 
shut  up:  and,  Lord!  the  number  of 
houses  visited,  which  this  day  I  observed 
through  the  town,  quite  round  in  my 
way,  by  Long  Lane  and  London  Wall. 
July  13th. 
By  water  at  night  late  to  Sir  G.  Car- 
teret's, but  there  being  no  oars  to  carry 
me,  I  was  fain  to  call  a  sculler  that  had 
a  gentleman  already  in  it,  and  he 
proved  a  man  of  love  to  music,  and  he 
and  I  sung  together  the  way  down  with 
great  pleasure.  Above  700  died  of  the 
plague  this  week. 


July  iSth. 
I  was  much  troubled  this  day  to  hear 
at  Westminster  how  the  officers  do 
bury  the  dead  in  the  open  Tuttle  fields, 
pretending  want  of  room  elsewhere ; 
whereas  the  New  Chapel  church-yard 
was  walled  in  at  the  public  charge  in 
the  last  plague  time,  merely  for  want 
of  room ;  and  now  none,  but  such  as 
are  able  to  pay  dear  for  it  can  be  buried 
there. 

July  29th. 
Up  betimes,  and,  after  viewing  some 
of  my  wife's  pictures,  which  now  she 
is  come  to  do  very  finely,  to  the  office. 
At  noon  to  dinner,  where  I  hear  that 
my  Will  is  come  in  thither,  and  laid 
down  upon  my  bed,  ill  of  the  head- 
ache, which  put  me  into  extraordinary 
fear ;  and  I  studied  all  I  could  to  get 
him  out  of  the  house,  and  set  my  peo- 
ple to 'work  to  do  it  without  discour- 
aging him,  and  myself  went  forth  to 
the  Old  Exchange  to  pay  my  fair  Bate- 
lier  for  some  linen,  and  took  leave  of 
her,  they  breaking  up  shop. 

July  30th. 
(Lord's  day.)  Up,  and  in  my  night- 
gown, cap,  and  neck-cloth,  undressed 
all  day  long — lost  not  a  minute,  but  in 
my  chamber,  setting  my  Tangier  ac- 
counts to  rights.  Will  is  very  well 
again.  It  was  a  sad  noise  to  hear  our 
bell  to  toll  and  ring  so  often  to-day, 
either  for  deaths  or  burials,  I  think, 
five  or  six  times. 

Aug.  3rd. 
.  .  .  By -and-by  met  my  Lord  Crewe 
returning ;  Mr.  Marr  telling  me  by  the 
way  how  a  maid-servant  of  Mr.  John 
Wright's,  who  lives  thereabouts,  falling 
sick  of  the  plague,  she  was  removed  to 
an  out-house,  and  a  nurse  appointed  to 
look  to  her ;  who  being  once  absent  the 
maid  got  out  of  the  house  at  the  win- 
dow and  ran  away.  The  nurse  coming 
and  knocking,  and  having  no  answer, 
believed  she  was  dead,  and  went  and 


126 


The  Plague  of  London 


told  Mr.  Wright  so,  who  and  his  lady 
were  in  a  great  strait  what  to  do  to  get 
her  buried.  At  last  resolved  to  go  to 
Brentwood,  hard  by,  being  in  the  par- 
ish, and  there  get  people  to  do  it.  But 
they  would  not ;  so  he  went  home  full 
of  trouble,  and  in  the  way  met  the 
wench  walking  over  the  common, 
which  frightened  him  worse  than 
before,  and  was  forced  to  send  people 
to  take  her,  which  he  did,  and  they  got 
one  of  the  pest-coaches,  and  put  her 
into  it  to  carry  her  to  a  pest-house. 
And  passing  in  a  narrow  lane,  Sir 
Anthony  Browne,  with  his  brother  and 
some  friends  in  the  coach,  met  this 
coach  with  the  curtains  drawn  close. 
The  brother  being  a  young  man,  and 
believing  there  might  be  some  lady  in 
it  that  would  not  be  seen,  and  the  way 
being  narrow,  he  thrust  his  head  out  of 
his  own  into  her  coach  and  to  look, 
and  there  saw  somebody  looking  very 
ill,  and  in  a  silk  dress,  and  stunk 
mightily,  which  the  coachman  also 
cried  out  upon.  And  presently  they 
came  up  to  some  people  that  stood 
looking  after  it,  and  told  our  gallants 
that  it  was  a  maid  of  Mr.  Wright's 
carried  away  sick  of  the  plague ;  which 
put  the  young  gentleman  into  a  fright 
had  almost  cost  him  his  life,  but  is  now 
well  again. 

August  ioth. 
The  people  die  so  that  now  it  seems 
they  are  fain  to  carry  the  dead  to  be 
buried  by  daylight,  the  nights  not  suffic- 
ing to  do  it  in.  And  my  Lord  Mayor 
commands  people  to  be  within  at 
nine  at  night  all,  as  they  say,  that  the 
sick  may  have  liberty  to  go  abroad  for 
air.  There  is  also  one  dead  out  of 
one  of  our  ships  at  Deptford,  which 
troubles  us  mightily — the  Providence, 
fire-ship,  which  was  just  fitted  to  go  to 
sea;  but  they  tell  me  to-day  no  more 
sick  on  board.  And  this  day,  W.  Bod- 
ham  tells  me  that  one  is  dead  at  Wool- 


wich, not  far  from  the  rope-yard.  I 
am  told,  too,  that  a  wife  of  one  of  the 
grooms  at  Court  is  dead  at  Salisbury. 
August  15. 
It  was  dark  before  I  could  get  home, 
and  so  land  at  Church-yard  stairs, 
where,  to  my  great  trouble,  I  met  a 
dead  corpse  of  the  plague,  in  the  nar- 
row alley,  just  bringing  down  a  little 
pair  of  stairs.  But  I  thank  God  I  was 
not  much  disturbed  at  it.  However,  I 
shall  beware  of  being  late  abroad 
again. 


2.  Letter  of  John  Sturgeon  to  Sir 
Robert  Harley.  (In  14th  report  of 
Ms.  Commission.  Appendix.  Lond. 
1894.) 

August  19,  1665. 
(I  and  all  my  children  are  in  good 
health  notwithstanding  that  the  plague 
is  round  about  us.)  Six  deying  the 
very  nex  wale  to  us.  Heare  are  the 
frequent  alarums  of  death.  Heare  is 
nothing  but  groaning  and  crying  and 
dying.  Carts  are  the  beeres,  wide  pits 
are  the  graves.  The  carkasses  of  the 
dead  may  say  with  the  sons  of  the 
prophets  '  Behould  the  plase  where  we 
lye  is  to  strait  for  us,'  for  they  are  not 
allowed  to  lye  single  in  thare  earthen 
beds  but  are  pyled  up  like  fagots  in  a 
stack  for  the  society  of  thare  future 
resurrection.  Heare  you  may  mett  on 
pale  ghost  muffled  up  under  the  throat, 
another  dragging  his  legs  after  him  by 
reason  of  the  tumor  of  his  groyne,  an- 
other bespotted  with  the  tokens  of  in- 
stant death,  and  yet  the  greatest  plage 
of  all  is  few  consider  the  reason  why 
we  are  plaged. 


3.  Extracts  from  Pepys's  Diary. 

Aug.  20th. 

After  church,  to  my  inn,  and  ate  and 
drank,  and  so  about  seven  o'clock  by 
water,  and  got,  between  nine  and  ten, 


The  Plague  of  London 


127 


to  Queenhithe,  very  dark  ;  and  I  could 
not  get  my  waterman  to  go  elsewhere 
for  fear  of  the  plague.  Thence  with  a 
lantern,  in  great  fear  of  meeting  of 
dead  corpses  carrying  to  be  buried ; 
but,  blessed  be  God  !   met  none. 

Aug.  22nd. 
Up,  and  being  importuned  by  my 
wife  and  her  two  maids,  which  are 
both  good  wenches,  for  me  to  buy  a 
necklace  of  pearl  for  her,  and  I  prom- 
ising to  give  her  one  of  £60  in  two 
years  at  furthest,  and  less  if  she  pleases 
me  in  her  painting.  I  went  away  and 
walked  to  Greenwich,  in  my  way  see- 
ing a  coffin  with  a  dead  body  therein, 
dead  of  the  plague,  lying  in  an  open 
close  belonging  to  Coome  farm,  which 
was  carried  out  last  night,  and  the 
parish  have  not  appointed  anybody  to 
bury  it ;  but  only  set  a  watch  there  all 
day  and  night,  that  nobody  should  go 
thither  or  come  thence :  this  disease 
making  us  more  cruel  to  one  another 
than  we  are  to  dogs.  Walked  to  Red- 
riffe,  troubled  to  go  through  the  little 
lane,  where  the  plague  is,  but  did,  and 
took  water  and  home,  where  all  well. 

Aug.  25th. 
This  day  I  am  told  that  Dr.  Burnett, 
my  physician,  is  this  morning  dead  of 
the  plague,  which  is  strange,  his  man 
dying  so  long  ago,  and  his  house  this 
month  open  again.  Now  himself  dead. 
Poor,  unfortunate  man  ! 

Aug.  30th. 
I  went  forth  and  walked  towards 
Moorfields  to  see,  God  forgive  my  pre- 
sumption !  whether  I  could  see  any  dead 
corpse  going  to  the  grave ;  but,  as  God 
would  have  it,  did  not.  But  Lord ! 
how  everybody's  looks  and  discourse 
in  the  street  is  of  death,  and  nothing 
else ;  and  few  people  going  up  and 
down,  that  the  town  is  like  a  place  dis- 
tressed and  forsaken. 


Sept.  3rd. 
(Lord's  day.)  Up,  and  put  on  my 
coloured  silk  suit,  very  fine,  and  my 
new  periwig,  bought  a  good  while  since, 
but  durst  not  wear,  because  the  plague 
was  in  Westminster  when  I  bought  it ; 
and  it  is  a  wonder  what  will  be  the 
fashion  after  the  plague  is  done  as  to 
periwigs,  for  nobody  will  dare  to  buy 
any  hair  for  fear  of  the  infection,  that 
it  had  been  cut  off  the  heads  of  peo 
pie  dead  of  the  plague.  My  Lord 
Brouncker,  Sir  J.  Minnes,  and  I,  up 
to  the  Vestry  at  the  desire  of  the  Jus- 
tices of  the  Peace,  in  order  to  the  doing 
something  for  the  keeping  of  the  plague 
from  growing ;  but,  Lord  !  to  consider 
the  madness  of  people  of  the  town, 
who  will,  because  they  are  forbid,  come 
in  crowds  along  with  the  dead  corpses 
to  see  them  buried  ;  but  we  agreed  on 
some  orders  for  the  prevention  thereof. 

Sept.  6th. 
To  London  to  pack  up  more  things ; 
and  there  I  saw  fires  burning  in  the 
street,  as  it  is  through  the  whole  City, 
by  the  Lord  Mayor's  order.  Thence 
by  water  to  the  Duke  of  Albemarle's  : 
all  the  way  fiVes  on  each  side  of  the 
Thames,  and  strange  to  see  in  broad 
daylight  two  or  three  burials  upon  the 
bankside,  one  at  the  very  heels  of  an- 
other :  doubtless,  all  of  the  plague ; 
and  yet  at  least  forty  or  fifty  people 
going  along  with  every  one  of  them. 

Sept.  7th. 
To  the  Tower,  and  there  sent  for  the 
weekly  bill,  and  find  8,252  dead  in  all, 
and  of  them  6,978  of  the  plague  ;  which 
is  a  most  dreadful  number,  and  shows 
reasons  to  fear  that  the  plague  hath  got 
that  hold  that  it  will  yet  continue 
among  us. 

Sept.  15th. 
With  Captain  Cocke,  and  there  drank 
a  cup  of  good  drink,  which  I  am  fain 
to    allow    myself    during    this    plague 


128 


The  Plague  of  London 


time,  by  advice  of  all,  and  not  con- 
trary to  my  oath,  my  physician  being 
dead,  and  chirurgeon  out  of  the  way, 
whose  advice  I  am  obliged  to  take.  In 
much  pain  to  think  what  I  shall  do  this 
winter  time ;  for  going  every  day  to 
Woolwich  I  cannot,  without  endan- 
gering my  life ;  and  staying  from  my 
wife  at  Greenwich  is  not  handsome. 


4.  Letter  of  J.  Tillison  to  Dr.  San- 
croft.  (In  Ellis,  Original  Letters.  Sec- 
ond Series,  Vol.  IV.     London,  1829.) 

September  14,  1665. 

Reverend  Sir  :  ...  We  are  in  good 
hopes  that  God  in  his  mercy  will  put 
a  stop  to  this  sad  calamity  of  sickness ; 
but  the  desolation  of  the  city  is  very 
great.  That  heart  is  either  steel  or 
stone  that  will  not  lament  this  sad  visi- 
tation, and  will  not  bleed  for  those  un- 
utterable sorrows. 

It  is  time,  God  knows,  that  one  woe 
courts  another ;  those  that  are  sick  are 
in  extreme  sorrow ;  the  poor  are  in 
need ;  those  that  are  in  health  are  in 
fear  of  infection  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  wicked  inventions  of  hellish  rebel- 
lious spirits  do  put  us  in  an  uproar  on 
the  other  side. 

What  eye  would  not  weep  to  see  so 
many  habitations  uninhabited  ;  the  poor 
sick  not  visited ;  the  hungry  not  fed  ; 
the  grave  not  satisfied !  Death  stares 
us  continually  in  the  face  in  every  in- 
fected person  that  passeth  by  us ;  in 
every  coffin  which  is  daily  and  hourly 
carried  along  the  streets.  The  bells 
never  cease  to  put  us  in  mind  of  our 
mortality. 

The  custom  was,  in  the  beginning, 
to  bury  the  dead  in  the  night  only ; 
now,  both  night  and  day  will  hardly  be 
time  enough  to  do  it. 

For  the  last  week,  mortality  did 
too  apparently  evidence  that,  that  the 
dead  was  piled  in  heaps  above  ground 


for  some  hours  together,  before  either 
time  could  be  gained  or  place  to  bury 
them  in. 

The  Quakers  (as  we  are  informed) 
have  buried  in  their  piece  of  ground  a 
thousand  for  some  weeks  together  last 
past. 

Many  are  dead  in  Ludgate,  Newgatt 
and  Christ  Church  Hospital,  and  man; 
other  places  about  the  town  which  ar 
not  included  in  the  bill  of  mortality. 

The  disease  itself  (as  is  acknowledge 
by  our  pi'actitioners  in  physic)  wat- 
more  favorable  in  the  beginning  of  the 
contagion  ;  now  more  fierce  and  violent : 
and  they  themselves  do  likewise  confess 
to  stand  amazed  to  meet  with  so  many 
various  symptons  which  they  find 
amongst  their  patients.  One  week  the 
general  distempers  are  botches  and  boils  ; 
the  next  week  as  clear-skinned  as  may 
be ;  but  death  spares  neither.  One 
week,  full  of  spots  and  tokens;  and 
perhaps  the  succeeding,  none  at  all. 
Now  taken  with  vomiting  and  loose- 
ness, and  within  two  or  three  days  al- 
most a  general  raging  madness.  One 
while  patients  use  to  linger  four  or  five 
days,  at  other  times  not  forty  eight 
hours ;  and  at  this  very  time  we  find  it 
more  quick  than  ever  it  was.  Where 
it  has  had  its  fling,  there  it  decreases ; 
It  reigned  most  heretofore  in  alleys, 
etc.  now  it  domineers  in  the  open 
streets.  The  poorer  sort  was  most  af- 
flicted ;  now  the  richer  bear  a  share. 

Captain  Colchester  is  dead.  Fleet- 
ham  and  all  his  family  are  clearly  swept 
away,  except  one  maid.  Dr.  Burnett, 
Dr.  Glover,  and  one  or  two  more  of 
the  College  of  Physicians,  with  Dr. 
O'Dowd,  which  was  licensed  by  my 
Lord's  Grace  of  Canterbury,  some  sur- 
geons, apothecaries,  and  Johnson  the 
chemist,  died  all  very  suddenly.  Some 
say  (but  God  forbid  that  I  should  re- 
port it  for  the  truth)  that  these  in  a 
consultation    together,    if    not    all,    yet 


The  Plague  of  London 


129 


the  greatest  part  of  them,  attempted  to 
open  a  dead  corpse  which  was  full  of 
the  tokens ;  and  being  in  hand  with  the 
dissected  body,  some  fell  down  dead 
immediately,  and  others  did  not  outlive 
the  next  day  at  noon. 

All  is  well  and  in  safety  at  your 
house,  God  be  thanked.  Upon  Tues- 
day last  I  made  it  my  day's  work  to 
kindle  fires  in  every  room  of  the  house 
where  I  could  do  it,  and  aired  all  the  bed 
clothes  and  bedding  at  the  fires,  and  so 
let  them  all  lie  abroad  until  this  morn- 
ing ;  the  feather  bed  in  the  back  cham- 
ber was  almost  spoiled  with  the  heavy 
weight  of  carpets  and  other  things 
upon  it.  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  too 
tedious,  and  therefore  beg  your  pardon 
and  take  my  leave,  who  am, 

Reverend  Sir, 
your  most  faithful  humble  servant, 

Jo.  Tillison. 

Brimstone,  hops,  pepper,  and  frank- 
incense, etc.,  I  use  to  fume  the  rooms 
with. 

For  yourself. 


5.     Extracts  from  Pepys's  Diary. 

Sept.  20th. 
Up,  and  after  being  trimmed,  the 
first  time  I  have  been  touched  by  a 
barber  these  twelve  months,  I  think, 
and  more,  by-and-by  Sir  J.  Minnes  and 
Sir  W.  Batten  met,  to  go  into  my  Lord 
Brouncker's  coach,  and  so  we  four  to 
Lambeth,  and  thence  to  the  Duke  of 
Albemarle,  to  inform  him  what  we 
have  done  as  to  the  fleet,  which  is  very 
little,  and  to  receive  his  direction.  But, 
Lord !  what  a  sad  time  it  is  to  see  no 
boats  upon  the  river ;  and  grass  grows 
all  up  and  down  Whitehall  court,  and 
nobody  but  poor  wretches  in  the  streets  ! 
And  which  is  worst  of  all,  the  Duke 
showed  us  the  number  of  the  plague 
this  week,  brought    in    the    last    night 


from  the  Lord  Mayor ;  that  it  is  in- 
creased about  600  more  than  the  last, 
which  is  quite  contrary  to  our  hopes 
and  expectations,  from  the  coldness  of 
the  late  season.  For  the  whole  general 
number  is  8,297,  and  of  them  the 
plague  7,165;  which  is  more,  in  the 
whole,  by  above  50,  than  the  biggest 
bill  yet :  which  is  very  grievous  to  us 
all.  I  find  Sir  W.  Batten  and  his  lady 
gone  home  to  Walthamstow,  with  some 
necessity,  hearing  that  a  maid-servant 
of  theirs  is  taken  ill. 

Sept.  27th. 
Up  and  saw  and  admired  my  wife's 
picture  of  Our  Saviour,  now  finished, 
which  is  very  pretty.  By  water  to 
Greenwich,  where  to  the  "King's 
Head,"  the  great  music-house,  the  first 
time  I  was  ever  there.  Much  troubled 
to  hear  from  Creed,  that  he  was  told  at 
Salisbury  that  I  am  come  to  be  a  great 
swearer  and  drunkard ;  but  Lord !  to 
see  how  my  late  little  drinking  of  wine 
is  taken  notice  of  by  envious  men,  to 
my  disadvantage.  To  Captain  Cocke's 
and  he  not  yet  come  from  town,  to  Mr. 
Evelyn,  where  much  company ;  and 
thence  in  his  coach  with  him  to  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle,  by  Lambeth,  who 
was  in  a  mighty  pleasant  humour ;  and 
tells  us  that  the  Dutch  do  stay  abroad, 
and  our  fleet  must  go  out  again,  or  be 
ready  to  do  so.  Here  we  got  several 
things  ordered,  as  we  desired,  for  the 
relief  of  the  prisoners,  and  sick  and 
wounded  men.  Here  I  saw  this  week  s 
bill  of  mortality,  wherein,  blessed  be 
God!  there  is  above  1,800  decrease, 
being  the  first  considerable  decrease  we 
have  had.  Most  excellent  discourse 
with  Mr.  Evelyn  touching  all  manner 
of  learning,  wherein  I  find  him  a  very 
fine  gentleman,  and  particularly  of 
painting,  in  which  he  tells  me  the  beau- 
tiful Mrs.  Middleton  is  rare,  and  his 
own  wife  does  brave  things. 


130 


The  Plague  of  London 


Oct.  7th. 
.  .  .  Talking  with  him  [a  constable] 
in  the  highway,  come  close  by  the 
bearers  with  a  dead  corpse  of  the 
plague  ;  but  Lord  !  to  see  what  custom 
is  I  am  almost  come  to  think  nothing 
of  it. 

Oct.  1 6th. 
I  walked  to  the  Tower ;  but,  Lord ! 
how  empty  the  streets  are,  and  melan- 
choly, so  many  poor  sick  people  in  the 
streets  full  of  sores ;  and  so  many  sad 
stories  overheard  as  I  walk,  everybody 
talking  of  this  dead,  and  that  man  sick, 
and  so  many  in  this  place,  and  so  many 
in  that.  And  they  tell  me  that  in 
Westminster  there  is  never  a  physician 
and  but  one  apothecary  left,  all  being 
dead  ;  but  that  there  are  great  hopes  of 
a  great  decrease  this  week  :  Gcd  send  it ! 

Nov.  15th. 
The  plague,  blessed  be  God,  is  de- 
creased   400,    making    the    whole    this 
week  but  1,300  and  odd,  for  which  the 
Lord  be  praised  ! 

Nov.  24th. 
To  London,  and  there  in  my  way  at 
my  old  oyster  shop  in  Gracious  Street, 
bought  two  barrels  of  my  fine  woman 
of  the  shop,  who  is  alive  after  all  the 
plague,  which  now  is  the  first  observa- 
tion or  inquiry  we  make  at  London 
concerning  everybody  we  know.  To 
the  'Change,  where  very  busy  with 
several  people,  and  mightily  glad  to 
see  the  'Change  so  full,  and  hopes  of 
another  abatement  still  the  next  week. 
I  went  home  with  Sir  G.  Smith  to 
dinner,  sending  for  one  of  my  barrels 
of  oysters,  which  were  good,  though 
come  from  Colchester,  where  the  plague 
hath  been  so  much.  Lord !  to  see  how 
I  am  treated,  that  come  from  so  mean 
a  beginning,  is  matter  of  wonder  to 
me.  But  it  is  God's  mercy  to  me,  and 
his  blessing  upon  my  taking  pains,  and 


being  punctual  in  my  dealings.  Visited 
Mr.  Evelyn,  where  most  excellent  dis- 
course with  him. 

Nov.  30th. 
Great  joy  we  have  this  week  in  the 
weekly  bill,  it  being  come  to  544  in  all, 
and  but  333  of  the  plague  ;  so  that  we 
are  encouraged  to  get  to  London  soon 
as  we  can.  And  my  father  writes  as 
great  news  of  joy  to  them,  that  he  saw 
York's  waggon  go  again  this  week  to 
London,  and  full  of  passengers :  and 
tells  me  that  my  aunt  Bell  hath  been 
dead  of  the  plague  these  seven  weeks. 

Dec.  25th  (Christmas  day). 
To  church  in  the  morning,  and  there 
saw  a  wedding  in  the  church,  which  I 
have  not  seen  many  a  day ;  and  the 
young  people  so  merry  one  with 
another  !  and  strange  to  see  what  de- 
light we  married  people  have  to  see 
these  poor  fools  decoyed  into  our  con- 
dition, every  man  and  woman  gazing 
and  smiling  at  them.  Here  I  saw  again 
my  beauty  Lethulier. 

Dec.  31st. 

Now  the  plague  is  abated  almost  to 
nothing,  and  I  intending  to  get  to  Lon- 
don as  fast  as  I  can. 

Jan.  5,  1665-6. 

I  with  my  Lord  Brouncker  and  Mrs. 
Williams  by  coach  with  four  horses  to 
London,  to  my  Lord's  house  in  Covent 
Garden.  But,  Lord  !  what  staring  to 
see  a  nobleman's  coach  come  to  town  ! 
And  porters  everywhere  bow  to  us ; 
and  such  begging  of  beggars !  And 
delightful  it  is  to  see  the  town  full  of 
people  again  ;  and  shops  begin  to  open, 
though  in  many  places  seven  or  eight 
together,  and  more,  all  shut ;  but  yet 
the  town  is  full,  compared  to  what  it 
used  to  be.  I  mean  the  City  end  :  for 
Covent  Garden  and  Westminster  are 
yet  very  empty  of  people,  no  court  nor 
gentry  being  there.  Home,  thinking  to 
get  Mrs.  Knipp,  but  could  not. 


The  Fire  of  London 


T3i 


Jan.  30th. 
Home,  finding  the  town  keeping  the 
day  solemnly,  it  being  the  day  of  the 
King's  murder;  and  they  being  at 
church,  I  presently  into  the  church. 
This  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  in  the 
church  since  I  left  London  for  the 
plague,  and  it  frightened  me  indeed  to 
go  through  the  church — more  than  I 
thought  it  could  have  done — to  see  so 
many  graves  lie  so  high  upon  the 
churchyards,  where  people  have  been 
buried  of  the  plague.  I  was  much 
troubled  at  it,  and  do  not  think  to  go 
through  it  again  a  good  while. 

Feb.  1 2th. 
Comes  Mr.  Caesar,  my  boy's  lute- 
master,  whom  I  have  not  seen  since  the 
plague  before,  but  he  hath  been  in 
Westminster  all  this  while,  very  well ; 
and  tells  me  in  the  height  of  it  how  bold 
people  there  were,  to  go  in  sport  to 
one  another's  burials  ;  and  in  spite,  too, 
ill  people  would  breathe  in  the  faces, 
out  of  their  windows,  of  well  people 
going  by. 


6.  Extract  from  Reresby's  Memoirs 
(p.  167). 

A  dreadful  plague  raged  in  London 
during  the  summer  of  1665,  which 
swept  away  97,309  persons.  It  was 
usual  for  people  to  drop  down  in  the 
streets  as  they  went  about  their  busi- 
ness ;  and  a  story  is  reported  for  a  cer- 
tain truth,  that  a  bag-piper  being  ex- 
cessively overcome  with  liquor,  fell 
down  in  the  street  and  there  lay  asleep. 
In  this  condition  he  was  taken  up  and 
thrown  into  a  cart  betimes  the  next 
morning,  and  carried  away  with  some 
dead  bodies.  Meanwhile  he  awoke 
from  his  sleep,  it  being  now  about  day- 
break, and  rising  up  began  to  play  a 
tune,  which  so  surprized  the  fellows 
that  drove  the  cart,  who  could  see 
nothing  distinctly,  that  in  a  fright  they 
betook  themselves  to  their  heels,  and 
would  have  it  that  they  had  taken  up 
the  devil  in  the  disguise  of  a  dead 
man. 

But,  to  resume  other  things,  I  mar- 
ried.  .   .   . 


GROUP  XVI. 

THE    FIRE    OF    LONDON,     1 666    A.  D. 


Extracts  from  Pepys'  and   Evelyn's 
Diaries. 

Pepys. 

Sept.  2nd  (Lord's  Day). 
Some  of  our  maids  sitting  up  late 
last  night  to  get  things  ready  against 
our  feast  to-day,  Jane  called  us  up 
about  three  in  the  morning  to  tell  us  of 
a  great  fire  they  saw  in  the  City ;  so  I 
rose  and  slipped  on  my  nightgown  and 
went  to  her  window,  and  thought  it  to 
be  on  the  back  side  of  Marke  Lane  at 
the  farthest ;  but  being  unused  to  such 


fires  as  followed,  I  thought  it  far 
enough  off,  and  so  went  to  bed  again 
and  to  sleep.  About  seven,  rose  again 
to  dress  myself,  and  there  looked  out  at 
the  window,  and  saw  the  fire  not  so  much 
as  it  was,  and  further  off.  So  to  my 
closet  to  set  things  to  rights  after  yes- 
terday's cleaning.  By-and-by  Jane 
comes  and  tells  me  that  she  hears  that 
above  three  hundred  houses  have  been 
burned  down  to-night  by  the  fire  we  saw, 
and  that  it  is  now  burning  down  all  Fish 
Street,  by  London  Bridge.     So  I  made 


132 


The  Fire  of  London 


myself  ready  presently,  and  walked  to 
the  Tower,  and  there  got  np  upon  one 
of  the  high  places,  Sir  J.  Robinson's 
little  son  going  up  with  me,  and  there 
I  did  see  the  houses  at  that  end  of  the 
bridge  all  on  fire,  and  an  infinite  great 
fire  on  this  and  the  other  side  the  end 
of  the  bridge,  which,  among  other 
people,  did  trouble  me  for  poor  little 
Michell  and  our  Sarah  on  the  bridge. 
So  down,  with  my  heart  full  of  trouble, 
to  the  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  who 
tells  me  that  it  begun  this  morning  in 
the  King's  baker's  house  in  Pudding 
Lane,  and  that  it  hath  burned  down  St. 
Magnus's  Church  and  most  part  of 
Fish  Street  already.  So  I  down  to  the 
water-side,  and  there  got  a  boat,  and 
through  bridge,  and  there  saw  a  la- 
mentable fire.  Poor  Michell' s  house, 
as  far  as  the  Old  Swan,  already  burned 
that  way,  and  the  fire  running  further, 
that,  in  a  very  little  time,  it  got  as  far 
as  the  Steele-yard  while  I  was  there. 
Everybody  endeavouring  to  remove  their 
goods,  and  flinging  into  the  river,  or 
bringing  them  into  lighters  that  lay  off  ; 
poor  people  staying  in  their  houses  as 
long  as  till  the  very  fire  touched  them, 
and  then  running  into  boats,  or  clam- 
bering from  one  pair  of  stairs  by  the 
water-side  to  another.  And,  amongst 
other  things,  the  poor  pigeons,  I  per- 
ceive, were  loth  to  leave  their  houses, 
but  hovered  about  the  windows  and 
balconies,  till  they  burned  their  wings 
and  fell  down.  Having  stayed,  and  in 
an  hour's  time  seen  the  fire  rage  every 
way,  and  nobody,  to  my  sight,  endeav- 
ouring to  quench  it,  but  to  remove  their 
goods,  and  leave  all  to  the  fire,  and 
having  seen  it  get  as  far  as  the  Steele- 
yard,  and  the  wind  mighty  high,  and 
driving  it  into  the  City :  and  every- 
thing, after  so  long  a  drought,  proving 
combustible,  even  the  very  stones  of 
churches ;  and,  among  other  things, 
the  poor  steeple  by  which  pretty  Mrs. 


lives,  and  whereof  my  old  school- 
fellow Elborough  is  parson,  taken  fire 
in  the  very  top,  and  there  burned  till  it 
fell  down.  I  to  Whitehall,  with  a 
gentleman  with  me,  who  desired  to  go 
off  from  the  Tower  to  see  the  fire  in 
my  boat,  and  there  up  to  the  King's 
closet  in  the  chapel,  where  people 
came  about  me,  and  I  did  give  them  an 
account  dismayed  them  all,  and  word 
was  carried  in  to  the  King.  So  I  was 
called  for,  and  did  tell  the  King  and 
Duke  of  York  what  I  saw,  and  that, 
unless  his  Majesty  did  command  houses, 
to  be  pulled  down,  nothing  could  stop 
the  fire.  They  seemed  much  troubled, 
and  the  King  commanded  me  to  go  to 
my  Lord  Mayor  from  him,  and  com- 
mand him  to  spare  no  houses,  but  to 
pull  down  before  the  fire  every  way. 
The  Duke  of  York  bid  me  tell  him 
that  if  he  would  have  any  more  sol- 
diers he  shall,  and  so  did  my  Lord 
Arlington  afterwards  as  a  great  secret. 
Here  meeting  with  Captain  Cocke,  I 
in  his  coach,  which  he  lent  me,  and 
Creed  with  me  to  Paul's;  and  there 
walked  along  Watling  Street,  as  well 
as  I  could,  every  creature  coming  away 
laden  with  goods  to  save,  and  here  and 
there  sick  people  carried  away  in  beds. 
Extraordinary  good  goods  carried  in 
carts  and  on  backs.  At  last  met  my 
Lord  Mayor  in  Canning  Street,  like  a 
man  spent,  with  a  hankercher  about  his 
neck.  To  the  King's  message  he  cried 
like  a  fainting  woman,  "Lord!  what 
can  I  do  ?  I  am  spent :  people  will  not 
obey  me.  I  have  been  pulling  down 
houses,  but  the  fire  overtakes  us  faster 
than  we  can  do  it."  That  he  needed 
no  more  soldiers,  and  that,  for  himself, 
he  must  go  and  refresh  himself,  having 
been  up  all  night.  So  he  left  me  and 
I  him,  and  walked  home,  seeing  peo- 
ple almost  distracted,  and  no  manner 
of  means  used  to  quench  the  fire.  The 
houses,  too,  so  very  thick  thereabouts, 


The  Fire  of  London 


133 


and  full  of  matter  for  burning,  as  pitch 
and  tar  in  Thames  Street ;  and  ware- 
houses of  oil,  and'  wines,  and  brandy, 
and  other  things.  Here  I  saw  Mr. 
Isaac  Houblon,  the  handsome  man, 
prettily  dressed  and  dirty  at  his  door 
at  Dowgate,  .receiving  'some  of  his 
brother's  things,  whose  houses  were  on 
fire,  and,  as  he  'says,  have  been  re- 
moved twice  already ;  and  he,  doubts, 
as  it  .soon  proved,  that  there  must  be  in 
a  little  time  removed  from  his  house 
also,  which  was  a 'sad  consideration. 
And  to  see  the'  churches  all  filling  with 
goods  by  people  who  themselves  should  ' 
have  been  quietly  there  at  this  '  time. 
By  this  time  it  was  about  twelve 
o'clock,  and  so  home,  and  there  find 
my  guests,  who  were  Mr.  Wood  and 
his  wife  Barbary  Shelden,  and  also  Mr.  . 
Moone,  she  mighty  fine,  and  her  hus- 
band, for  aught  I  see,  a  likely"  man. 
But  Mr.  Moone' s  design  and  mine, 
which  was  to  look  over  my  closet,  and 
please  him  with  the  sight  thereof, 
which  he  hath  long  desired,  was  wholly 
disappointed ;  for  we  were  in  great ' 
trouble  and  disturbance  at  this  .fire,  not 
knowing  what  to  think  of  it.  How- 
ever we  had  an  extraordinary  good  din- 
ner, and  merry  as  at  this  time  we  could 
be.  While  at  dinner,  Mrs.  Batelier 
came  to  inquire  after  Mr.  Woolfe  and 
Stanes,  who,  it  seems,  are  related  to 
them,  whose  houses  in  Fish  Street  are 
all  burned,  and  they  in  a  sad  condition. 
She  would  not  stay  in  the  fright.  Soon 
as  dined,  I  and  Moone  away,  and 
walked  through  the  City,  the  streets 
full  of  nothing  but  people,  and  horses 
and  carts  laden  with  goods,  ready  to 
run  over  one  another,  and  removing 
goods  from  one  burned  house  to '  an- 
other. They  now  removing  out  of 
Canning  Street,  which  received  goods 
in  the  morning,  into  Lumbard  Street, 
and  further ;  and  amongst  others  I  now 
saw  my  little  goldsmith  Stokes  receiv- 


ing some  friends  goods  whose  house 
itself  was  burned  the  day  after.  We 
parted  at  Paul's,  he  home  and  I  to 
Paul's  Wharf,  where  I  had  appointed 
a  boat  to  attend  me,  and  took  in  Mr. 
Carcasse  and  his  brother,  whom  I  met 
in  the  street,  and  carried  them  below 
and  above  bridge  too.  And  again  to 
see  the  fire,  which  was  now  got  further, 
both  below  and  above,  and  no  likeli- 
hood of  stopping  it.  Met  with  the 
King  and  Duke  of  York  in  their  barge, 
and  with  'them  to  Queenhithe,  and 
there  called  Sir  Richard  Browne  to 
them.  Their  order  was  only  to  pull 
down  houses  apaces,  and  so  below 
bridge  at  the  water-side ;  but  little  was 
or  could  be  done,  the  fire  coming  upon 
them  so  fast.  Good  hopes  there  was 
of  stopping  it  at  the  "Three  Cranes" 
above,  and  at  Botolph's  Wharf  below 
bridge,  if  care  be  used ;  but  the  wind 
carries  it  into  the  City,  so  as  we  know 
not,  by  the  water-side,  what  it  do  there. 
River  full  of  lighters  and  boats,  taking 
in  goods,  and  good  goods  swimming  in 
the  water ;  and  only  I  observed  that 
hardly  one  lighter  or  boat  in  three  that 
had  the  goods  of  a  house  in,  but  there 
was  a  pair  of  virginals  in  it.  Having 
seen  as  much  as  I  could  now,  I  away 
to  Whitehall  by  appointment,  and  there 
walked  to  St.  James's  Park,  and  there 
met  my  wife  and  Creed,  and  Wood 
and  his  wife,  and  walked  to  my  boat ; 
and  there  upon  the  water  again,  and  to 
the  fire  up  and  down,  it  still  increasing 
and  the  wind  great.  So  near  the  fire 
as  we  could  for  smoke ;  and  all  over 
the  Thames,  with  one's  faces  in  the 
wind,  you  were  almost  burned  with  a 
shower  of  fire-drops.  This  is  very 
true :  so  as  houses  were  burned  by 
these  drops  and  flakes  of  fire,  three  or 
four,  nay,  five  or  six  houses,  one  from 
another.  When  we  could  endm-e  no 
more  upon  the  water,  we  to  a  little  ale- 
house on  the  bankside,  over  against  the 


134 


The  Fire  of  London 


"  Three  Cranes,"  and  there  stayed  till 
it  was  dark  almost,  and  saw  the  fire 
grow ;  and  as  it  grew  darker  appeared 
more  and  more ;  and  in  corners  and 
upon  steeples,  and  between  churches 
and  houses,  as  far  as  we  could  see  up 
the  hill  of  the  City,  in  a  most  horrid, 
malicious,  bloody  flame,  not  like  the 
fine  flame  of  an  ordinary  fire.  Bar- 
bary  and  her  husband  away  before  us. 
We  stayed  till,  it  being  darkish,  we 
saw  the  fire  as  only  one  entire  arch  of 
fire  from  this  to  the  other  side  the 
bridge,  and  in  a  bow  up  the  hill  for  an 
arch  of  above  a  mile  long  :  it  made  me 
weep  to  see  it.  The  churches,  houses, 
and  all  on  fire,  and  flaming  at  once ; 
and  a  horrid  noise  the  flames  made, 
and  the  cracking  of  houses  at  their 
ruin.  So  home  with  a  sad  heart,  and 
there  find  everbody  discoursing  and 
lamenting  the  fire ;  and  poor  Tom 
Hater  came  with  some  few  of  his 
goods  saved  out  of  his  house,  which 
was  burned  upon  Fish  Street  Hill.  I 
invited  him  to  lie  at  my  house,  and  did 
receive  his  goods,  but  was  deceived  in 
lying  there,  the  news  coming  every 
moment  of  the  growth  of  the  fire,  so  as 
we  were  forced  to  begin  to  pack  up  our 
own  goods,  and  prepare  for  their  re- 
moval ;  and  did  by  moonshine,  it  being 
brave,  dry,  and  moonshine  and  warm 
weather,  carry  much  of  my  goods  into 
the  garden ;  and  Mr.  Hater  and  I  did 
remove  my  money  and  iron  chests  into 
my  cellar,  as  thinking  that  the  safest 
place.  And  got  my  bags  of  gold  into 
my  office  ready  to  carry  away,  and  my 
chief  papers  of  accounts  also  there,  and 
my  tallies  into  a  box  by  themselves.  So 
great  was  our  fear  that  Sir  W.  Batten 
hath  carts  come  out  of  the  country  to 
fetch  away  his  goods  this  night.  We 
did  put  Mr.  Hater,  poor  man,  to  bed  a 
little  ;  but  he  got  but  very  little  rest,  so 
much  noise  being  in  my  house  taking 
down  of  goods. 


Evelyn.  , 

Sept.  3rd. 

I  had  public  prayers  at  home.  The 
fire  continuing,  after  dinner  I  took 
coach  with  my  Wife  and  Sonn  and 
went  to  the  Bank  side  in  Southwark, 
where  we  beheld  that  dismal  spectacle, 
the  whole  citty  in  dreadfull  flames  neare 
the  water  side ;  all  the  houses  from 
the  Bridge,  all  Thames  streete,  and 
upwards  towards  Cheapeside,  downe 
to  the  Three  Cranes,  were  now  con- 
sum' d;  and  so  returned  exceeding  as- 
tonished what  would  become  of  the 
rest. 

The  fire  having  continued  all  this 
night  (if  I  may  call  that  night  which 
was  light  as  day  for  10  miles  round 
about,  after  a  dreadfirll  manner)  when 
conspiring  with  a  fierce  eastern  wind 
in  a  very  drie  season  ;  I  went  on  foote 
to  the  same  place,  and  saw  ye  whole 
south  part  on  ye  citty  burning  from 
Cheapeside  to  ye  Thames,  and  all  along 
Cornehill  (for  it  likewise  kindled  back 
against  ye  wind  as  well  as  forward), 
Tower  streete,  Fen-church  streete, 
Gracious  streete,  and  so  along  to  Barn- 
ard's Castle,  and  was  now  taking  hold 
of  St.  Paule's  church,  to  which  the 
scaffolds  contributed  exceedingly.  The 
conflagration  was  so  universal,  and  the 
people  so  astonish' d,  that  from  the 
beginning,  I  know  not  by  what  despond- 
ency or  fate,  they  hardly  stirr'd  to 
quench  it,  so  that  there  was  nothing 
heard  or  seene  but  crying  out  and  lam- 
entation, running  about  like  distracted 
creatures  without  at  all  attempting  to 
save  even  their  goods ;  such  a  strange 
consternation  there  was  upon  them,  so 
as  it  burned  both  in  breadth  and  length, 
the  churches,  public  halls,  Exchange, 
hospitals,  monuments,  and  ornaments, 
leaping  after  a  prodigious  manner,  from 
house  to  house  and  streete  to  streete,  at 
greate  distances  one  from  ye  other ;  for 
ye  heate  with  a  long  set  of    faire  and 


The  Fire  of  London 


135 


warm  weather  had  even  ignited  the  aire 
and  prepar'd  the  materials  to  conceive 
the  fire,  which,  devour' d  after  an  in- 
credible manner  houses,  furniture,  and 
everything.  Here  we  saw  the  Thames 
cover' d  with  goods  floating,  all  the 
barges  and  boates  laden  with  what  some 
had  time  and  courage  to  save,  as,  on  ye 
other,  ye  carts,  etc.  carrying  out  to  the 
fields,  which  for  many  miles  were 
strewed  with  moveables  of  all  sorts,  and 
tents  erecting  to  shelter  both  people  and 
what  goods  they  could  get  away.  Oh 
the  miserable  and  calamitous  spectacle  ! 
such  as  happly  the  world  had  not  seene 
since  the  foundation  of  it,  nor  be  out- 
don  till  the  universal  conflagration  there- 
of. All  the  skie  was  of  a  fiery  aspect, 
like  the  top  of  a  burning  oven,  and  the 
light  seene  above  40  miles  round  about 
for  many  nights.  God  grant  mine 
eyes  may  never  behold  the  like,  who 
now  saw  above  10,000  houses  all  in 
one  flame  ;  the  noise  and  cracking  and 
thunder  of  the  impetuous  flames,  ye 
shrieking  of  women  and  children,  the 
hurry  of  people,  the  fall  of  towers, 
houses,  and  churches,  was  like  an 
hideous  storme,  and  the  aire  all  about 
so  hot  and  inflam'd  that  at  the  last  one 
was  not  able  to  approach  it,  so  that 
they  were  forc'd  to  stand  still  and  let 
ye  flames  burn  on,  which  they  did  for 
neere  two  miles  in  length  and  one  in 
breadth.  The  clouds  also  of  smoke 
were  dismall  and  reach' d  upon  compu- 
tation neer  50  miles  in  length.  Thus 
I  left  it  this  afternoone  burning,  a  re- 
semblance of  Sodom,  or  the  last  day. 
It  forcibly  call'd  to  my  mind  that  pas- 
sage— non  enim  hie  habemus  stabilem 
civitatem;  the  mines  resembling  the 
picture  of  Ti-oy.  London  was,  but  is 
no  more  !     Thus  I  returned. 

Pepys. 

Sept.  3rd. 
About  four  o'clock    in  the  morning 


my  Lady  Batten  sent  me  a  cart  to  carry 
away  all  my  money,  and  plate,  and  best 
things,  to  Sir  W.  Rider's  at  Bednall 
Green,  which  I  did,  riding  myself  in 
my  nightgown,  in  the  cart ;  and  Lord  ! 
to  see  how  the  streets  and  the  highways 
are  crowded  with  people  running  and 
riding,  and  getting  of  carts  at  any  rate 
to  fetch  away  things.  I  find  Sir  W. 
Rider  tired  with  being  called  up  all 
night,  and  receiving  things  from  several 
friends.  His  house  full  of  goods,  and 
much  of  Sir  W.  Batten's  and  Sir  W. 
Pen's.  I  am  eased  at  my  heart  to  have 
my  treasure  so  well  secured.  Then 
home,  and  with  much  ado  to  find  a 
way,  nor  any  sleep  all  this  night  to  me 
nor  my  poor  wife.  But  then  all  this 
day  she  and  I  and  all  my  people  labour- 
ing to  get  away  the  rest  of  our  things, 
and  did  get  Mr.  Tooker  to  get  me  a 
lighter  to  take  them  in,  and  we  did 
carry  them,  myself  some,  over  Tower 
Hill,  which  was  by  this  time  full  of 
people's  goods,  bringing  their  goods 
thither  :  and  down  to  the  lighter,  which 
lay  at  the  next  quay,  above  the  Tower 
Dock.      And  here  was  my  neighbour's 

wife,  Mrs. ,  with  her  pretty  child, 

and  some  few  of  her  things,  which  I 
did  willingly  give  way  to  be  saved  with 
mine  :  but  there  was  no  passing  with 
anything  through  the  postern,  the  crowd 
was  so  great.  The  Duke  of  York  came 
this  day  by  the  office  and  spoke  to  us, 
and  did  ride  with  his  guard  up  and 
down  the  City  to  keep  all  quiet,  he  being 
now  general,  and  having  the  care  of 
all.  This  day,  Mercer  being  not  at 
home,  but  against  her  mistress's  order 
gone  to  her  mother's,  and  my  wife 
going  thither  to  speak  with  W.  Hewer, 
beat  her  there,  and  was  angry,  and  her 
mother  saying  that  she  was  not  a  'pren- 
tice girl,  to  ask  leave  every  time  she 
goes  abroad,  my  wife  with  good  reason 
was  angry;  and,  when  she  came  home, 
did  bid  her  begone  again.     And  so  she 


136 


The  Fire  of  London 


went  away,  which  troubled  me,  but  yet 
less  than  it  would,  because  of  the  con- 
dition we  are  in,  in  fear  of  coming  in  a 
little  time  to  being  less  able  to  keep  one 
in  her  quality.  At  night,  lay  down  a 
little  upon  a  quilt  of  W.  Hewer's  in 
the  office,  all  my  own  things  being 
packed  up  or  gone ;  and  after  me,  my 
poor  wife  did  the  like,  we  having  fed 
upon  the  remains  of  yesterday's  dinner, 
having  no  fire  nor  dishes,  nor  any  op- 
portunity of  dressing  anything. 

Evelyn. 

Sept.  4th. 

The  burning  still  rages ;  and  it  was 
now  gotten  as  far  as  the  Inner  Temple  ; 
all  Fleet  streete,  the  Old  Bailey,  Lud- 
gate  Hill,  Warwick  Lane,  Newgate, 
Paules  chaine,  Watling  streete,  now 
flaming,  and  most  of  it  reduc'd  to  ashes  ; 
the  stones  of  Paules  flew  like  granados, 
ye  mealting  lead  running  downe  the 
streetes  in  a  streame,  and  the  very  pave- 
ments glowing  with  fiery  rednesse,  so 
as  no  horse  nor  man  was  able  to  tread 
on  them,  and  the  demolition  had 
stopp'd  all  the  passages,  so  that  no 
help  could  be  applied.  The  eastern 
wind  still  more  impetuously  driving  the 
flames  forward.  Nothing  but  ye 
almighty  power  of  God  was  able  to 
stop  them,  for  vaine  was  ye  help  of 
man. 

Pepys. 

Sept.  4th. 

Up  by  break  of  day,  to  get  away  the 
remainder  of  my  things,  which  I  did  by 
a  lighter  at  the  Iron  gate,  and  my  hands 
so  full,  that  it  was  the  afternoon  before 
we  could  get  them  all  away.  Sir  W. 
Pen  and  I  to  the  Tower  Street,  and 
there  met  the  fire  burning,  three  or  four 
doors  beyond  Mr.  Howell's,  whose 
goods,  poor  man,  his  trays,  and  dishes, 
shovels,  &c,  were  flung  all  along 
Tower  Street  in  the  kennels,  and 
people  working   wherewith    from    one 


end  to  the  other,  the  fire  coming  on  in 
that  narrow  street,  on  both  sides,  with 
infinite  fury.  Sir  W.  Batten,  not 
knowing  how  to  remove  his  wine,  did 
dig  a  pit  in  his  garden,  and  laid  it  in 
there ;  and  I  took  the  opportunity  of 
laying  all  the  papers  of  my  office  that 
I  could  not  otherwise  dispose  of.  And 
in  the  evening  Sir  W.  Pen  and  I  did 
dig  another,  and  put  our  wine  in  it ; 
and  I  my  Parmesan  cheese,  as  well  as 
my  wine  and  some  other  things.  The 
Duke  of  York  was  at  the  office  this  day, 
at  Sir  W.  Pen's,  but  I  happened  not  to 
be  within.  This  afternoon,  sitting  mel- 
ancholy with  Sir  W.  Pen  in  our  garden, 
and  thinking  of  the  certain  burning  of 
this  office,  without  extraordinary  means, 
I  did  propose  for  the  sending  up  of  all 
our  workmen  from  the  Woolwich  and 
Deptford  yards,  none  whereof  yet  ap- 
peared, and  to  write  to  Sir  W.  Coven- 
try to  have  the  Duke  of  York's  permis- 
sion to  pull  down  houses,  rather  than 
lose  this  office,  which  would  much 
hinder  the  King's  business.  So  Sir  W. 
Pen  went  down  thi?  night,  in  order  to 
the  sending  them  up  to-morrow  morn- 
ing ;  and  I  wrote  to  Sir  W.  Coventry 
about  the  business,  but  received  no 
answer.  This  night  Mrs.  Turner,  who, 
poor  woman,  was  removing  her  goods 
all  this  day,  good  goods,  into  the  gar- 
den, and  knows  not  how  to  dispose  of 
them,  and  her  husband  supped  with  my 
wife  and  me  at  night,  in  the  office,  upon 
a  shoulder  of  mutton  from  the  cook's 
without  any  napkin,  or  anything,  in  a 
sad  manner,  but  were  merry.  Only 
now  and  then,  walking  into  the  garden, 
saw  how  horribly  the  sky  looks,  all  on 
a  fire  in  the  night,  was  enough  to  put 
us  out  of  our  wits  ;  and,  indeed,  it  was 
extremely  dreadful,  for  it  looks  just  as 
if  it  was  at  us,  and  the  whole  heaven 
on  fire.  I  after  supper  walked  in  the 
dark  down  Tower  Street,  and  there  saw 
it  all  on  fire,  at  the  Trinity  House  on 


The  Fire  of  London 


'37 


that  side,  and  the  Dolphin  Tavern  on 
this  side,  which  was  very  near  us,  and 
the  fire  with  extraordinary  vehemence. 
Now  begins  the  practice  of  blowing  up 
of  houses  in  Tower  Street,  those  next 
the  Tower,  which  at  first  did  frighten 
people  more  than  anything ;  but  it 
stopped  the  fire  where  it  was  done,  it 
bringing  down  the  houses  to  the  ground 
in  the  same  places  they  stood,  and  then 
it  was  easy  to  quench  what  little  fire 
was  in  it,  though  it  kindled  nothing 
almost.  W.  Hewer  this  day  went  to 
see  how  his  mother  did,  and  comes  late 
home,  telling  us  how  he  hath  been 
forced  to  remove  her  to  Islington,  her 
house  in  Pye  Corner  being  burned  ;  so 
that  the  fire  has  got  so  far  that  way  and 
to  the  Old  Bailey,  and  was  running 
down  to  Fleet  Street;  and  Paul's  is 
burned,  and  all  Cheapside.  I  wrote  to 
my  father  this  night,  but  the  post-house 
being  burned,  the  letter  could  not  go. 


Evelyn. 


Sept.  5th. 


It  crossed  towards '  Whitehall ;  but 
oh,  the  confusion  there  was  then  at  the 
Court !  It  pleas' d  his  Majesty  to  com- 
mand me  among  ye  rest  to  looke  after 
the  quenching  of  Fetter  lane  end,  to 
preserve  if  possible  that  part  of  Hol- 
born,  whilst  the  rest  of  ye  gentlemen 
tooke  their  several  posts,  some  at  one 
part,  some  at  another  (for  now  they 
began  to  bestir  themselves,  and  not  till 
now,  who  hitherto  had  stood  as  men 
intoxicated,  with  their  hands  acrosse) 
and  began  to  consider  that  nothing  was 
likely  to  put  a  stop  but  the  blowing  up 
of  so  many  houses  as  might  make  a 
wider  gap  than  any  had  yet  been  ma-de 
by  the  ordinary  method  of  pulling  them 
downe  with  engines ;  this  some  stout 
seamen  propos'd  early  enough  to  have 
sav'd  neere  ye  whole  citty,  but  this 
some  tenacious  and  avaritious  men, 
aldermen,    etc.,     would    not    permitt, 


because  their  houses  must  have  ben 
of  the  first.  It  was  therefore  now 
commanded  to  be  practic'd,  and  my 
concerne  being  particularly  for  the 
Hospital  of  St.  Bartholomew  neere 
Smithfield,  where  I  had  many  wounded 
and  sick  men,  made  me  the  more 
diligent  to  promote  it ;  nor  was  my 
care  for  the  Savoy  lesse.  It  now 
pleas' d  God  by  abating  the  wind,  and 
by  the  industrie  of  ye  people,  wher> 
almost  all  was  lost,  infusing  a  new 
spirit  into  them,  that  the  furie  of  it 
began  sensibly  to  abate  about  noone,  so 
as  it  came  no  farther  than  ye  Temple 
westward,  nor  than  ye  entrance  of 
Smithfield  north  ;  but  continu'd  all  this 
day  and  night  so  impetuous  toward 
Cripplegate  and  the  Tower  as  made 
us  all  despaire  ;  it  also  brake  out  againe 
in  the  Temple,  but  the  courage  of  the 
multitude  persisting,  and  many  houses 
being  blown  up,  such  gaps  and  desola- 
tions were  soone  made,  as  with  the 
former  three  days  consumption,  the 
back  fire  did  not  so  vehemently  urge 
upon  the  rest  asformerly.  There  was  yet 
no  standing  neere  the  burning  and  glow- 
ing ruines  by  neere  a  furlong's  space. 

The  coale  and  wood  wharfes  and 
magazines  of  oyle,  rosin,  etc.,  did 
infinite  mischiefe,  so  as  the  invective 
which  a  little  before  I  had  dedicated  to 
his  Ma'ty  and  publish' d,  giving  warning 
what  might  probably  be  ■  the  issue  of 
suffering  those  shops  to  be  in  the  Citty, 
was  look'd  on  as  a  prophecy. 

The  poore  inhabitants  were  dispers'd 
about  St.  George's  Fields,  and  Moore- 
fields,  as  far  as  Highgate,  and  severall 
miles  in  circle,  some  under  tents,  some 
under  miserable  hutts  and  hovells, 
many  without  a  rag  or  any  necessary 
utensills,  bed  or  board,  who  from  deli- 
catnesse,  riches,  and  easy  accomoda- 
tions in  stately  and  well  furnish' d 
houses,  were  now  reduc'd  to  extreamest 
misery  and  poverty. 


I3§ 


The  Fire  of  London 


In  this  calamitous  condition  I  re- 
turn'd  with  a  sad  heart  to  my  house, 
blessing  and  adoring  the  distinguishing 
mercy  of  God  to  me  and  mine,  who  in 
the  midst  of  all  this  ruine  was  like 
Lot,  in  my  little  Zoar,  safe  and  sound. 

Pepys. 

Sept.  5th. 
I  lay  down  in  the  office  again  upon 
W.  Hewer's  quilt,  being  mighty  weary, 
and  sore  in  my  feet  with  going  till  I 
was  hardly  able  to  stand.  About  two 
in  the  morning  my  wife  calls  me  up, 
and  tells  me  of  new  cries  of  fire,  it 
being  come  to  Barking  Church,  which 
is  the  bottom  of  our  lane.  I  up,  and 
finding  it  so,  resolved  presently  to  take 
her  away,  and  did,  and  took  my  gold, 
which  was  about  £2,350,  W.  Hewer, 
and  Jane  down  by  Proundy's  boat  to 
Woolwich;  but,  Lord!  what  a  sad 
sight  it  was  by  moonlight,  to  see  the 
whole  city  almost  on  fire,  that  you 
might  see  it  as  plain  at  Woolwich  as  if 
you  were  by  it.  There,  when  I  came, 
[  find  the  gates  shut,  but  no  guard  kept 
at  all,  which  troubled  me,  because  of 
discourses  now  begun,  that  there  is  a 
plot  in  it,  and  that  the  French  had  done 
it.  I  got  the  gates  open,  and  to  Mr. 
Shelden's,  where  I  locked  up  my  gold, 
and  charged  my  wife  and  W.  Hewer 
never  to  leave  the  room  without  one  of 
them  in  it,  night  or  day.  So  back  again, 
by  the  way  seeing  my  goods  well  in 
the  lighters  at  Deptford,  and  watched 
well  by  people.  Home,  and  whereas  I 
expected  to  have  seen  our  house  on 
fire,  it  being  now  about  seven  o'clock, 
it  was  not.  But  to  the  fire,  and  there 
find  greater  hopes  than  I  expected,  for 
my  confidence  of  finding  our  office  on 
fire  was  such,  that  I  durst  not  ask  any- 
body how  it  was  with  us,  till  I  came 
and  saw  it  was  not  burned.  But,  going 
to  the  fire,  I  find,  by  the  blowing  up  of 
houses  and  the  great  help  given  by  the 


workmen  out  of  the  King's  yards,  sent 
up  by  Sir  W.  Pen,  there  is  a  good  stop 
given  to  it,  as  well  at  Marke '  Lane  end 
as  ours,  it  having  only  burned  the  dial 
of  Barking  Church,  and  part  of  the 
porch,  and  was  there  quenched.  I  up 
to  the  top  of  Barking  steeple,  and 
there  saw  the  saddest  sight  of  desola- 
tion that  ever  I  saw ;  everywhere  great 
fires,  oil-cellars,  and  brimstone,  and 
other  things  burning.  I  became  afraid 
to  stay  there  long,  and  therefore  down 
again  as  fast  as  I  could,  the  fire  being 
spread  as  far  as  I  could  see ;  and  to  Sir 
W.  Pen's,  and  there  ate  a  piece  of  cold 
meat,  having  eaten  nothing  since  Sun- 
day but  the  remains  of  Sunday's  dinner. 
Here  I  met  with  Mr.  Young  and 
Whistler;  and,  having  removed  all  my 
things,  and  received  good  hopes  that 
the  fire  at  our  end  is  stopped,  they  and 
I  walked  into  the  town,  and  find  Fen- 
church  Street,  Gracious  Street,  and 
Lumbard  Street  all  in  dust.  The  Ex- 
change a  sad  sight,  nothing  standing 
there,  of  all  the  statues  or  pillars,  but 
Sir  Thomas  Gresham's  picture  in  the 
corner.  Into  Moorefields,  our  feet  ready 
to  burn,  walking  through  the  town 
among  the  hot  coals,  and  find  that  full 
of  people,  and  poor  wretches  carrying 
their  goods  there,  and  everybody  keep- 
ing his  goods  together  by  themselves, 
and  a  great  blessing  it  is  to  them  that 
it  is  fair  weather  for  them  to  keep 
abroad  night  and  day ;  drunk  there, 
and  paid  twopence  for  a  plain  penny 
loaf.  Thence  homeward,  having 
passed  through  Cheapside  and  New- 
gate market,  all  burned ;  and  seen 
Anthony  Joyce's  house  on  fire;  and 
took  up,  which  I  keep  by  me,  a  piece 
of  glass  of  the  Mercer's  Chapel  in  the 
street,  where  much  more  was,  so 
melted  and  buckled  with  the  heat  of 
the  fire  like  parchment.  I  also  did  see 
a  poor  cat  taken  out  of  a  hole  in  a 
chimney,    joining   to    the    wall    of   the 


The  Fire  of  London 


39 


Exchange,  with  the  hair  all  burned  off 
the  body,  and  yet  alive.  So  home  at 
night  and  find  there  good  hopes  of  sav- 
ing our  office  ;  but  great  endeavours  of 
watching  all  night,  and  having  men 
ready,  and  so  we  lodged  them  in  the 
office,  and  had  drink  and  bread  and 
cheese  for  them.  And  I  lay  down  and 
slept  a  good  night  about  midnight, 
though,  when  I  rose,  I  heard  that  there 
had  been  a  great  alarm  of  French  and 
Dutch  being  risen,  which  proved  noth- 
ing. But  it  is  a  strange  thing  to  see 
how  long  this  time  did  look  since 
Sunday,  having  been  always  full  of 
variety  of  actions,  and  little  sleep,  that 
it  looked  like  a  week  or  more,  and  I 
had  forgot  almost  the  day  of  the  week. 

Evelyn . 

Sept.  6th,  Thursday. 
I  represented  to  his  Ma'y  the  case  of 
the  French  prisoners  at  war  in  my  cus- 
todie,  and  besought  him  that  there 
might  be  still  the  same  care  of  watching 
at  all  places  contiguous  to  unseised 
houses.  It  is  not  indeede  imaginable 
how  extraordinary  the  vigilance  and 
activity  of  the  King  and  the  Duke  was, 
even  labouring  in  person,  and  being 
present  to  command,  order,  reward,  or 
encourage  workmen,  by  which  he 
shewed  his  affection  to  his  people  and 
gained  theirs.  Having  then  dispos'd  of 
some  under  cure  at  the  Savoy,  I  return' d 
to  White- hall,  where  I  din'd  at  Mr. 
Offley's,  the  groome  porter,  who  was 
my  relation. 

Pepys. 

Sept.  6. 

Up  about  five  o'clock,  and  met  Mr. 
Gauden  at  the  gate  of  the  office,  I  in- 
tending to  go  out  as  I  used,  every  now 
and  then  to-day,  to  see  how  the  fire  is, 
and  call  our  men  to  Bishopsgate,  where 
no  fire  had  yet  been  near,  and  there  is 
now  one  broken    out,  which    did  give 


great  grounds  to  people,  and  to  me  too, 
to  think  that  there  is  some  kind  of  plot 
in  this,  on  which  many  by  this  time 
have  been  taken,  and  it  hath  been  dan- 
gerous for  any  stranger  to  walk  in  the 
streets,  but  I  went  with  the  men,  and 
we  did  put  it  out  in  a  little  time,  so 
that  that  was  well  again.  It  was 
pretty  to  see  how  hard  the  women  did 
work  in  the  kennels,  sweeping  of  water  : 
but  then  they  would  scold  for  drink, 
and  be  as  drunk  as  devils.  I  saw  good 
butts  of  sugar  broke  open  in  the  street, 
and  people  give  and  take  handfuls  out, 
and  put  into  beer  and  drink  it.  And 
now  all  being  pretty  well,  I  took  boat, 
and  over  to  Southwarke,  and  took  boat 
on  the  other  side  the  bridge,  and  so  to 
Westminster,  thinking  to  shift  myself, 
being  all  in  dirt  from  top  to  bottom, 
but  could  not  there  find  any  place  to 
buy  a  shirt  or  a  pair  of  gloves.  West- 
minster Hall  being  full  of  people's 
goods,  those  in  Westminster  having  re- 
moved all  their  goods,  and  the  Ex- 
chequer money  put  into  vessels  to  carry 
to  Nonsuch,  but  to  the  "  Swan,"  and 
there  was  trimmed  ;  and  then  to  White- 
hall, but  saw  nobody,  and  so  home.  A 
sad  sight  to  see  how  the  river  looks  :  no 
houses  nor  church  near  it,  to  the  Temple, 
where  it  stopped.  At  home,  did  go 
with  Sir  W.  Batten,  and  our  neighbour 
Knightly,  who,  with  one  more,  was 
the  only  man  of  any  fashion  left  in  all 
the  neighbourhood  thereabouts,  they  all 
removing  their  goods,  and  leaving  their 
houses  to  the  mercy  of  the  fire.  To 
Sir  R.  Ford's,  and  there  dined  in  an 
earthen  platter — a  fried  breast  of  mut- 
ton ;  a  great  many  of  us,  but  very 
merry,  and  indeed  as  good  a  meal, 
though  as  ugly  a  one  as  ever  I  had  in 
my  life.  Thence  down  to  Deptford, 
and  there  with  great  satisfaction  landed 
all  my  goods  at  Sir  J.  Carterets  safe, 
and  nothing  missed  I  could  see  or  hear. 
This  being  done  to  my  great  content,  I 


140 


The   Fire  of   London 


home,  and  to  Sir  W.  Batten's,  and 
there  with  Sir  R.  Ford,  Mr.  Knightly, 
and  one  Withers,  a  professed  lying 
rogue,  supped  well,  and  mighty  merry, 
and  our  fears  over.  From  them  to  the 
office,  and  there  slept  with  the  office 
full  of  labourers,  who  talked,  and  slept, 
and  walked  all  night  long  there.  But 
strange  it  is  to  see  Cloth-worker's  Hall 
on  fire  these  three  days  and  nights  in 
one  body  of  flame,  it  being  the  cellar 
full  of  oil. 

Sept  7. 

Up  by  five  o'clock,  and,  blessed  be 
God !  find  all  well,  and  by  water  to 
Pane's  wharf.  Walked  thence,  and 
saw  all  the  town  burned,  and  a  miser- 
able sight  of  Paul's  Church,  with  all 
the  roofs  fallen,  and  the  body  of  the 
choir  fallen  into  St.  Fayth's ;  Paul's 
school  also,  Ludgate  and  Fleet  Street. 
My  father's  house,  and  the  church,  and 
a  good  part  of  the  Temple  the  like.  So 
to  Creed's  lodging,  near  the  new  Ex- 
change, and  there  find  him  laid  down 
upon  a  bed,  the  house  all  unfurnished, 
there  being  fears  of  the  fire's  coming 
to  them.  There  borrowed  a  shirt  of 
him  and  washed. 


Evelyn. 


Sept  7th. 


I  went  this  morning  on  foote  from 
Whitehall  as  far  as  London-Bridge, 
thro'  the  late  Fleete-streete,  Ludgate 
hill,  by  St.  Paules,  Cheapeside,  Ex- 
change, Bishopsgate,  Aldersgate,  and 
out  to  Moorefields,  thence  thro'  Corne- 
hill,  etc.,  with  extraordinary  difficulty, 
clambering  over  heaps  of  yet  smoking 
rubbish  and  frequently  mistaking  where 
I  was.  The  ground  under  my  feete  so 
hot,  that  it  even  burnt  the  soles  of  my 
shoes.  In  the  mean  time  his  Majesty 
got  to  the  Tower  by  water,  to  demolish 
ye  houses  about  the  graff ,  which  being 
built    intirely  about  it,  had  they  taken 


fire  and  attack 'd  the  White  Tower 
where  the  magazine  of  powder  lay, 
would  undoubtedly  not  only  have  beaten 
downe  and  destroy' d  all  ye  bridge,  but 
sunke  and  torne  the  vessels  in  ye  river, 
and  render' d  ye  demolition  beyond  all 
expression  for  several  miles  about  the 
countrey. 

At  my  returne  I  was  infinitely  con- 
cern'd  to  find  that  goodly  Church  St. 
Paules  now  a  sad  ruine,  and  that  beau- 
tiful portico  (for  structure  comparable 
to  any  in  Europe  as  not  long  before 
repair' d  by  the  late  King)  now  rent  in 
pieces,  flakes  of  vast  stone  split  asun- 
der, and  nothing  remaining  intire  but 
the  inscription  in  the  architrave,  shew- 
ing by  whom  it  was  built,  which  had 
not  one  letter  of  it  defac'd.  It  was 
astonishing  to  see  what  immense  stones 
the  heate  had  in  a  manner  calcin'd,  so 
that  all  ye  ornaments,  columns,  freezes, 
capitals,  and  projectures  of  massie  Port- 
land stone  flew  off,  even  to  ye  very 
roofe,  where  a  sheet  of  lead  covering  a 
great  space  (no  less  than  six  akers  by 
measure)  was  totally  mealted ;  the 
ruines  of  the  vaulted  roofe  falling 
broke  into  St.  Faith's,  which  being 
fill'd  with  the  magazines  of  bookes 
belonging  to  ye  Stationers,  and  carried 
thither  for  safety,  they  were  all  con- 
sum' d,  burning  for  a  weeke  following. 
It  is  also  observable  that  the  lead  of  ye 
altar  at  ye  east  end  was  untouch' d,  and 
among  the  divers  monuments,  the  body 
of  one  Bishop  remain' d  intire.  Thus 
lay  in  ashes  that  most  venerable  church, 
one  of  the  most  antient  pieces  of  early 
piety  in  ye  Christian  world,  besides 
neere  100  more.  The  lead,  iron 
worke,  bells,  plate,  etc.  mealted ;  the 
exquisitely  wrought  Mercers  Chapell, 
the  sumptuous  Exchange,  ye  august 
fabriq  of  Christ  Church,  all  ye  rest  of 
the  Companies  Halls,  splendid  build- 
ings, arches,  enteries,  all  in  dust ;  the 
fountaines  dried  up  and  ruin'd,  whilst 


The   Fire  of    London 


HT 


the  very  waters  remain' d  boiling;  the 
voragos  of  subterranean  cellars,  wells, 
and  dungeons,  formerly  warehouses, 
still  burning  in  stench  and  dark  clowds 
of  smoke,  so  that  in  five  or  six  miles 
traversing  about,  I  did  not  see  one 
loade  of  timber  unconsum'd,  nor  many 
stones  but  what  were  calcin'd  white  as 
snow.  The  people  who  now  walk'd 
about  ye  ruines  appear' d  like  men  in 
some  dismal  desert,  or  rather  in  some 
greate  citty  laid  waste  by  a  cruel 
enemy ;  to  which  was  added  the  stench 
that  came  from  some  poore  creatures 
bodies,  beds,  and  other  combustible 
goods.  Sir  Tho.  Gresham's  statue, 
tho'  fallen  from  its  nich  in  the  Royal 
Exchange,  remain' d  intire,  when  all 
those  of  ye  Kings  since  ye  Conquest 
were  broken  to  pieces ;  also  the  stand- 
ard in  Cornehill,  and  Q.  Elizabeth's 
effigies,  with  some  armes  on  Ludgate, 
continued  with  but  little  detriment, 
whilst  the  vast  yron  chaines  of  the 
Citty  streetes,  hinges,  barrs  and  gates 
of  prisons  were  many  of  them  mealted 
and  reduced  to  cinders  by  ye  vehement 
heate.  Nor  was  I  yet  able  to  pass 
through  any  of  the  narrower  streetes, 
but  kept  the  widest ;  the  ground  and 
air,  smoake  and  fiery  vapour,  continu'd 
so  intense  that  my  haire  was  almost 
sing'd,  and  my  feete  unsufferably  sur- 
bated.  The  bye  lanes  and  narrower 
streetes  were  quite  fill'd  up  with  rub- 
bish, nor  could  one  have  possibly 
knowne  where  he  was,  but  by  ye  ruines 
of  some  Church  or  Hall,  that  had 
some  remarkable  tower  or  pinnacle 
remaining.  I  then  went  towards  Is- 
lington and  Highgate,  where  one  might 
have  seen  200,000  people  of  all  ranks 
and  degrees  dispers'd  and  lying  along 
by  their  heapes  of  what  they  could 
save  from  the  fire,  deploring  their 
losse,  and  tho'  ready  to  perish  for  hun- 
ger and  destitution,  yet  not  asking  one 
penny  for  reliefe,  which  to  me  appear' d 


a  stranger  sight  than  any  I  had  yet 
beheld.  His  Majesty  and  Council 
indeede  tooke  all  imaginable  care  for 
their  reliefe  by  proclamation  for  the 
country  to  come  in  and  refresh  them 
with  provisions.  In  ye  midst  of  all 
this  calamity  and  confusfon,  there  wasr 
I  know  not  how,  an  alarme  begun  that 
the  French  and  Dutch,  with  whom  we 
were  now  in  hostility,  were  not  onely 
landed,  but  even  entering  the  Citty. 
There  was  in  truth  some  days  before 
great  suspicion  of  those  two  nations 
joyning ;  and  now,  that  they  had  ben 
the  occasion  of  firing  the  towne.  This 
report  did  so  terrifie,  that  on  a  suddaine 
there  was  such  an  uproare  and  tumult 
that  they  ran  from  their  goods,  and 
taking  what  weapons  they  could  come 
at,  they  could  not  be  stopp'd  from  fall- 
ing on  some  of  those  nations  whom 
they  casually  met,  without  sense  or 
reason.  The  clamor  and  peril  grew  so 
excessive  that  it  made  the  whole  Court 
amaz'd,  and  they  did  with  infinite 
paines  and  greate  difficulty  reduce  and 
appease  the  people,  sending  troops  of 
soldiers  and  guards  to  cause  them  to 
retire  into  ye  fields  againe,  where  they 
were  watch' d  all  this  night.  I  left 
them  pretty  quiet,  and  came  home  suf- 
ficiently weary  and  broken.  Their 
spirits  thus  a  little  calmed,  and  the 
affright  abated,  they  now  began  to 
repaire  into  ye  suburbs  about  the  Citty, 
where  such  as  had  friends  or  oppor- 
tunity got  shelter  for  the  present,  to 
which  his  Ma'y's  proclamation  also  in- 
vited them. 

Still  ye  plague  continuing  in  our 
parish,  I  could  not  without  danger 
adventure  to  our  church. 

Reresby. 

Many  were  the  conjectures  of  the 
cause  of  this  fire ;  some  said  it  was 
done  by  the  French,  others  by  the 
Papists  ;  but  it  was  certainly  mere  acci- 


142 


The    Court    of   Charles    II. 


dent.  But,  however  it  happened,  the 
dreadful  effects  of  it  were  not  so  strange 
as  the  rebuilding  was  of  this  great  city, 
which,  by  reason  of  the  King's  and  Par- 
liament's care   (then    sitting),  and  the 


great  wealth  and  opulency  of  the  city 
itself,  was  rebuilt  most  stately  with 
brick  (the  greatest  part  being  before 
nothing  but  lath  and  lime)  in  four  or 
five  years'  time. 


GROUP    XVII. 


THE    COURT    OF    CHARLES    II. 


i .  Extracts  from  the  Diaries  of  Pepys 
and  Evelyn. 

Pepys. 

August  31,  1 66 1. 
At  Court  things  are  in  very  ill  condi- 
tion, there  being  so  much  emulation, 
poverty,  and  the  vices  of  drinking, 
swearing,  etc.,  that  I  know  not  what 
will  be  the  end  of  it,  but  confusion. 
And  the  clergy  so  high,  that  all  the 
people  that  I  meet  with  do  protest 
against  their  practice.  In  short,  I  see 
no  content  or  satisfaction  anywhere  in 
any  one  sort  of  people.  The  Benevo- 
lence proves  so  little,  and  an  occasion 
of  so  much  discontent  everywhere  that 
it  had  better  had  it  never  been  set  up. 
I  think  to  subscribe  twenty  pound. 

Evelyn. 

Jan.  6th,  1661-2. 
This  evening  according  to  costome, 
his  Majesty  opened  the  revells  of  that 
night  by  throwing  the  dice  himself  in 
the  privy  chamber,  where  was  a  table 
set  on  purpose,  and  lost  his  £100. 
(The  yeare  before  he  won  1500/.) 
The  ladies  also  plaied  very  deepe.  I 
came  away  when  the  Duke  of  Ormond 
had  won  about  1000/,  and  left  them 
still  at  passage,  cards,  etc.  At  other 
tables,  both  there  and  at  ye  Groom- 
porter's,  observing  the  wicked  folly  and 
monstrous  excesse  of  passion  amongst 
some  loosers ;  sorry  am  I  that  such  a 
wretched  costome  as  play  to  that  excesse 
should  be  countenanc'd  in  a  court 
which  ought  to  be  an  example  of  virtue 
to  the  rest  of  the  kingdome. 


Pepys. 

May  15,  1662. 
To  Westminster;  and  at  the  Privy 
Seal  I  saw  Mr.  Coventry's  seal  for  his 
being  Commissioner  with  us.  At  night, 
all  the  bells  of  the  town  rung,  and  bon- 
fires made  for  the  joy  of  the  Queen's 
arrival,  who  landed  at  Portsmouth  last 
night.  But  I  do  not  see  much  true  joy, 
but  only  an  indifferent  one,  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people,  who  are  much  dis- 
contented at  the  pride  and  luxury  of 
the  Court,  and  running  in  debt. 

Evelyn. 

May  30th,  1662. 
The  Queene  arrived  with  a  traine  of 
Portuguese  ladies  in  their  monstrous 
fardingals  or  guard-infantas,  their  com- 
plexions olivader  and  sufficiently  un- 
agreeable. Her  Majesty  in  the  same 
habit,  her  foretop  long  and  turn'd  aside 
very  strangely.  She  was  yet  of  the 
handsomest  countenance  of  all  ye  rest, 
and  tho'  low  of  stature  prettily  shaped, 
languishing  and  excellent  eyes,  her 
teeth  wronging  her  mouth  by  sticking 
a  little  too  far  out ;  for  the  rest  lovely 
enough. 

Pepys. 

May  31st,  1662. 
The  Queen  is  brought  a  few  days 
since  to  Hampton  Court :  and  all  people 
say  of  her  to  be  a  very  fine  and  hand- 
some lady,  and  very  discreet;  and  that 
the  King  is  pleased  enough  with  her : 
which,  I  fear,  will  put  Madam  Castle- 
maine's  nose  out  of  joint.  The  court  is 
wholly  now  at  Hampton. 


CKTHARTNA  D.G,  maCfWE  BntannmFmnamMMiherma.mma 

.  i'  (f  Q.  Ir  Mallanlrr  ex. 


The    Court   of   Charles    II 


143 


June  30th. 
This  I  take  to  be  as  bad  a  juncture 
as  ever  I  observed.  The  King  and  his 
new  Queen  minding  their  pleasures  at 
Hampton  Court.  All  people  discon- 
tented ;  some  that  the  King  do  not 
gratify  them  enough,  and  the  others, 
fanatics  of  all  sorts,  that  the  King  do 
take  away  their  liberty  of  conscience ; 
and  the  height  of  the  bishops,  who  I 
fear  will  ruin  all  again.  They  do  much 
cry  up  the  manner  of  Sir  H.  Vane's 
death,  and  he  deserves  it.  Much 
clamour  against  the  chimney  money, 
and  the  people  say  they  will  not  pay  it 
without  force.  And  in  the  meantime 
like  to  have  war  abroad,  and  Portugal 
to  assist  when  we  have  not  money  to 
pay  for  any  ordinary  layings-out  at 
home. 


2.  Letter  of  Thomas  Brown  to  M.  de 
A.  at  Paris.  (In  the  Compleat  Works 
of  Mr.  Thomas  Brown.  London,  1710.) 

.  .  .  We  likewise  went  to  see  Hamp- 
ton-Court, where  the  Court  is  at  pres- 
ent, and  which  is  the  Fountainbleau  of 
England.  We  had  the  honour  of  see- 
ing their  Majesties  there.  The  young 
Queen  is  low,  and  of  a  brown  com- 
plexion;  and  by  her  face,  'tis  easy  to 
discover  that  she  has  a  great  deal  of 
goodness  and  sweetness  in  her  nature. 
She  has  brought  some  four  or  five 
Portuguese  ladies  with  her,  that  are  the 
most  deform'd,  ill-look'd  Devils,  that 
ever  bore  the  name  of  women.  When 
a  man  sees  them  among  the  English 
maids  of  Honour,  that  attend  her,  he 
would  be  apt  to  swear,  that  Heaven 
and  Hell  were  jumbled  together  and 
that  angels  and  furies  were  lately  recon- 
ciled to  one  another.  But  this  is  not  all 
the  trumpery  which  the  Queen  has 
brought  with  her  out  of  her  own 
country  ;  for  her  Majesty  has  a  consort, 
as  'tis  called,  of  Citterns,  Harps  and  the 


Lord  knows  what  instruments,  that 
make  the  most  wretched  harmony  that 
ever  was  heard.  Going  to  hear  mass, 
we  were  obliged  to  suffer  this  vile  per- 
secution ;  and  though  I  have  none  of 
the  nicest  ears,  I  never  heard  such  hid- 
eous musick  since  I  was  born.  As  for 
Hampton-Court,  'tis  a  magnificent. pile 
of  buildings,  but,  upon  my  word,  does 
not  come  up  either  to  our  St.  Germains 
or  Fountainbleau,  no  more  than  White- 
hall is  to  be  put  in  the  same  scale  with 
the  Louvre  or  St.  James's  House  with 
Luxemburgh  Palace.  When  I  was 
shewn  that  dismal  place  where  the  late 
King  had  his  head  cut  off,  I  could  not 
forbear  to  pour  out  a  thousand  impre- 
cations against  this  rebellious  nation ; 
and  was  infinitely  pleas' d  to  see  the 
City  Gates,  and  other  eminent  places, 
adorned  with  the  heads  and  limbs  of 
those  execrable  regicides.  Cromwell's 
head,  of  accursed  memory,  was,  very 
much  to  my  satisfaction,  placed  over 
Westminster  Hall.  I  wish  that  the 
publick  examples  of  these  criminals 
may  deter  all  rebels  for  the  future  and 
secure  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the 
British  throne,  which  has  hardly  re- 
cover'd  the  terrible  shock  it  receiv'd  in 
the  late  calamitous  disorders.   .   .   . 

Our  pockets  have  been  most  cruelly 
emptied  since  we  have  been  here;  for 
shilling  is  the  word  upon  every  occasion. 
.  .  .  Methinks  they  talk  of  nothing 
but  shilling,  shilling,  shilling  everlast- 
ingly.  .   .   . 


3.  Extract  from  "The  Secret  History 
of  the  Reign  of  Charles  II.  by  a  Member 
of  his  Privy  Council."  (London,  1792.) 

.  .  .  Their  majesties  came  together 
to  Hampton-court  on  the  29th  of  May, 
the  King's  birthday,  and  just  two 
years  after  his  triumphal  entrance  into 
London. 

Whatever  testimonies  of   public  joy 


1 44 


The    Court    of   Charles    II 


were  given  on  this  occasion,  yet  in  a 
short  time  there  appeared  not  that 
serenity  at  court  which  was  expected. 
There  was  a  lady  of  youth  and  beauty 
with  whom  the  King  had  lived  in  great 
and  notorious  familiarity  [Lady  Castel- 
maine]  .  .  .  When  the  queen  came  to 
Hampton- court,  she  brought  with  her 
a  formed  resolution  that  she  would 
never  suffer  the  lady,  who  was  so  much 
spoken  of,  to  be  in  her  presence.  The 
King  was  determined  on  the  very  re- 
verse ;  and,  in  a  day  or  two,  led  the  lady 
himself  into  her  Majesty's  chamber,  and 
presented  her  to  the  queen,  who  received 
her  with  the  same  grace  as  she  had  done 
the  rest,  there  being  many  lords  and 
other  ladies  at  the  same  time  there.  But 
whether  her  majesty  in  the  instant  knew 
who  she  was,  or  upon  recollection 
found  it  out  afterwards,  she  no  sooner 
sat  down  in  her  chair  than  her  colour 
changed,  tears  gushed  out  of  her  eyes, 
her  nose  bled,  and  she  fainted,  so  that 
she  was  forthwith  removed  into  another 
room,  and  all  the  company  withdrew. 
Though  these  were  the  natural  work- 
ings of  flesh  and  blood  in  a  young  and 
jealous  wife,  the  king  was  so  enraged, 
that,  from  that  moment  he  treated  the 
queen  even  in  public  with  the  utmost 
indifference  and  indignity,  till  her  spirit 
being  at  length  broken  by  such  cruelty, 
and  the  firmness  of  her  mind  exhausted 
in  useless  struggles,  she  sunk  into  the 
opposite  extreme  of  condescension  and 
meanness.  She  not  only  admitted  the 
lady  to  be  of  her  bedchamber,  and  used 
her  kindly  in  private,  but  was  familiar 
and  merry  with  her  in  public,  so  that  her 
majesty  forfeited  all  the  compassion 
before  felt  for  the  barbarity  of  the  af- 
fronts she  underwent;  and  the  king's 
indifference  was  now  changed  into  a 
settled  contempt.  .  .  .  The  lady  had 
apartments  assigned  her  at  court ;  his 
majesty  spent  most  of  his  time  in  her 
company. 


4.  Extracts  from  Evelyn  and  Pepys. 

Evelyn . 

August  14th,  i6&2. 
This  afternoone  the  Queene  mother 
[Henrietta  Maria]  with  the  Earle  of 
St.  Albans  and  many  greate  ladies  and 
persons,  was  pleas' d  to  honor  my  poore 
villa  with  her  presence,  and  to  accept 
of  a  collation.  She  was  exceedingly 
pleas' d  and  stay'd  till  very  late  in  the 
evening. 

August  23rd. 
I  was  spectator  of  the  most  magnifi- 
cent triumph  that  ever  floated  on  the 
Thames,  considering  the  innumerable 
boates  and  vessells,  dress' d  and  adorned 
with  all  imaginable  pomp,  but  above 
all  the  thrones,  arches,  pageants,  and 
other  representations,  stately  barges  of 
the  Lord  Maior  and  companies,  with 
various  inventions,  musiq  and  peales  of 
ordnance  both  from  ye  vessells  and  the 
shore,  going  to  meete  and  conduct  the 
new  Queene  from  Hampton  Court  to 
White-hall,  at  the  first  time  of  her 
coming  to  town.  In  my  opinion  it  far 
exceeded  all  ye  Venetian  Bucentoras, 
etc.,  on  the  Ascension,  when  they  go 
to  espouse  the  Adriatic.  His  Majestie 
and  the  Queene  came  in  an  antiq-shap'd 
open  vessell,  cover' d  with  a  state  or 
canopy  of  cloth  of  gold,  made  in  form 
of  a  cupola,  supported  with  high  Cor- 
inthian pillars,  wreath' d  with  flowers, 
festoons  and  garlands.  I  was  in  our 
new-built  vessell,  sailing  amongst  them. 

Pepys. 

Oct.  19th,  1662  (Lord's-day). 
Put  on  my  first  new  lace-band  ;  and 
so  neat  it  is,  that  I  am  resolved  my 
great  expense  shall  be  lace- bands,  and 
it  will  set  off  anything  else  the  more. 
I  am  sorry  to  hear  that  the  news  of  the 
selling  of  Dunkirk  is  taken  so  gener- 
ally ill,  as  I  find  it  is  among  the  mer- 


The   Court   of  Charles    II 


145 


chants ;  and  other  things,  as  removal  of 
officers  at  Court,  good  for  worse ;  and 
all  things  else  made  much  worse  in 
their  report  among  people  than  they 
are.  And  this  night,  I  know  not  upon 
what  ground,  the  gates  of  the  City 
ordered  to  be  all  shut,  and  double 
guards  everywhere.  Indeed  I  do  find 
everybody's  spirit  very  full  of  trouble  : 
and  the  things  of  the  Court  and  Coun- 
cil very  ill  taken ;  so  as  to  be  apt  to 
appear  in  bad  colours,  if  there  should 
ever  be  a  beginning  of  trouble,  which 
God  forbid ! 

Dec.  25th. 
.  .  .  Bishop  Morley  preached  upon 
the  song  of  the  angels,  "Glory  to  God 
on  high,  on  earth,  peace  and  good  will 
towards  men."  Methought  he  made 
but  a  poor  sermon,  but  long,  and  repre- 
hending the  common  jollity  of  the 
Court  for  the  true  joy  that  shall  and 
ought  to  be  on  these  days.  Particular- 
ised concerning  their  excess  in  plays 
and  gaming,  saying  that  he  whose 
office  it  is  to  keep  the  gamesters  in 
order  and  within  bounds,  serves  but  for 
a  second  rather  in  a  duel,  meaning  the 
groom-porter.  Upon  which  it  was 
worth  observing  how  far  they  are  come 
from  taking  the  reprehensions  of  a 
bishop  seriously,  that  they  all  laugh  in 
the  chapel  when  he  reflected  on  their 
ill  actions  and  courses.  He  did  much 
press  us  to  joy  in  these  public  days  of 
joy,  and  to  hospitality.  But  one  that 
stood  by  whispered  in  my  ear  that  the 
Bishop  do  not  spend  one  groat  to  the 
poor  himself.  The  sermon  done,  a 
good  anthem  followed  with  viols,  and 
the  King  came  down  to  receive  the 
Sacrament. 

Feb.  23rd,  1663. 
This  day  I  was  told  that  my  Lady 
Castlemaine  hath  all  the  King's  Christ- 
mas presents  made  him    by  the    peers 
given  to  her,  which  is  a  most  abomin- 


able thing;  and  that  at  the  great  ball 
she  was  much  richer  in  jewels  than  the 
Queen  and  Duchess  put  both  together. 

Nov.  26,  1663. 
To  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  there 
looked  upon  the  second  part  of  '*  Hudi- 
bras,"  which  I  buy  not,  but  borrow  to 
read,  to  see  if  it  be  as  good  as  the  first, 
which  the  world  cried  so  mightily  up, 
though  it  hath  not  a  good  liking  in  me, 
though  I  had  tried  but  twice  or  three 
times  reading  to  bring  myself  to  think 
it  witty.  To-day,  for  certain,  I  am 
told  how  in  Holland  publicly  they  have 
pictured  our  King  with  reproach :  one 
way  is  with  his  pockets  turned  the 
wrong  side  outward,  hanging  out 
empty ;  another  with  two  courtiers 
picking  of  his  pockets;  and  a  third, 
leading  of  two  ladies,  while  others 
abuse  him ;  which  amounts  to  great 
contempt. 

29th  (Lord's  day). 
This  morning  I  put  on  my  best  black 
cloth  suit,  trimmed  with  scarlet  ribbon, 
very  neat,  with  my  cloak  lined  with 
velvet,  and  a  new  beaver,  which  al- 
together is  very  noble,  with  my  black 
silk  knit  canons  I  bought  a  month  ago. 

April  1 8th,  1664. 
To  Hyde  Pai-k,  where  I  have  not 
been  since  last  year,  where  I  saw  the 
King  with  his  periwig,  but  not  altered 
at  all ;  and  my  Lady  Castlemaine  in  a 
coach  by  herself,  in  yellow  satin  and  a 
pinner  on,  and  many  brave  persons. 
And  myself,  being  in  a  hackney  and 
full  of  people,  was  ashamed  to  be 
seen  by  the  world,  many  of  them 
knowing  me. 

May  31st,  1664. 
...  I    was   told    to-day  that,  upon 
Sunday    night    last,  being   the    King*s 
birthday,  the    King  was   at    my  Lady 


146 


The    Court    of   Charles    II, 


Castlemaine's  lodgings,  over  the  hither- 
gate  at  Lambert's  lodgings,  dancing 
with  fiddlers  all  night  almost ;  and  all 
the  world  coming  by  taking  notice 
of  it. 

October  26th,  1664. 
At  Woolwich ;  I  there  up  to  the 
King  and  Duke.  Here  I  stayed  above 
with  them  while  the  ship  was  launched, 
which  was  done  with  great  success ; 
and  the  King  did  very  much  like  the 
ship,  saying,  she  had  the  best  bow  that 
ever  he  saw.  But,  Lord !  the  sorry 
talk  and  discourse  among  the  great 
courtiers  round  about  him,  without  any 
reverence  in  the  world,  but  with  so 
much  disorder.  By-and-by  the  Queen 
comes  and  her  maids  of  honour ;  one 
whereof,  Mrs.  Boynton,  and  the  Duch- 
ess of  Buckingham  had  been  very  sick 
coming  by  water  in  the  barge,  the 
water  being  very  rough ;  but  what 
silly  sport  they  made  with  them  in 
very  common  terms,  methought  was 
very  poor,  and  below  what  people 
think  these  great    people    say  and  do. 

April  7,  1665. 
Sir  Philip  Warwick  did  show  me 
nakedly  the  King's  condition  for  money 
for  the  Navy ;  and  he  assures  me, 
unless  the  King  can  get  some  noblemen 
or  rich  money-gentlemen  to  lend  him 
money,  or  to  get  the  City  to  do  it,  it  is 
impossible  to  find  money ;  we  having 
already,  as  he  says,  spent  one  year's 
share  of  the  three-years'  tax,  which 
comes  to  £2,500,000. 


5.  Letters  from  D.  de  Repas  to  Sir 
Robert  Harley.  (In  Ms.  Commission 
Report,  14  Appendix.) 

Oxford  (?)  Oct.  19,  1665. 

[Shades  of  Bocaccio!     Three  days  before, 

as  we  have   seen,  Pepys  wrote   in  his  diary 

"I   walked   to   the   Tower;    but  Lord!  how 

empty  the   streets   are,  and  melancholy,   so 


many  poor  sick  people  in  the  streets  full  of 
sores ;  and  so  many  sad  stories  overheard  as 
I  walk,  everybody  talking  of  this  dead,  and 
that  man  sick,  and  so  many  in  this  place,  and 
so  many  in  that." — Ed.] 

.  .  .  For  news  from  court  I  shall  tell 
you  that  one  cannot  possibly  know  a 
woman  from  a  man,  unlesse  one  hath 
the  eyes  of  a  linx  who  can  see  through 
a  wall,  for  by  the  face  and  garbe  they 
are  like  men.  They  do  not  wear  any 
hood  but  only  men's  perwick  hatts  and 
coats.  There  is  no  other  plague  here 
but  the  infection  of  love  ;  no  other  dis- 
course but  of  ballets,  dance,  and  fine 
clouse ;  no  other  emulation  but  who 
shall  look  the  handsomere,  and  whose 
vermillion  and  Spanish  white  is  the  best ; 
none  other  fight  than  for  '  I  am  yours.' 
In  a  word  there  is  nothing  here  but 
mirth,  and  there  is  a  talk  that  there 
shall  be  a  prociamacon  made  that  any 
melancoly  man  or  woman  coming  in 
this  towne  shall  be  turned  out  and  put 
to  the  pillory,  and  there  to  be  whep  till 
he  hath  learned  the  .way  to  be  mary  a 
la  mode. 

Oxford,  Nov.  24th. 
The  Duck  of  Monmouth  gave  last 
night  a  great  balle  to  the  Queene  and 
to  all  the  ladys  of  the  Court,  but  very 
privattly.  .  .  .  Yet  I  was  there  from 
the  beginning  to  the  last  amongst  all  the 
nobility  and  the  beautys.  I  came  there 
by  the  wheels  of  fortune.  There  was 
above  4  or  500  people  at  the  doore,  but 
none  could  gett  in.  They  did  begin  to 
dance  about  eight  of  the  clock  att  night. 
The  Queene  came  half  an  houre  after 
and  went  awaye  at  eleven.  The  rest  did 
dance  till  between  one  and  two.  The 
Queen  [did]  dance  all  the  while  she 
was  there  with  an  extraordinary  gi-eat 
modestye.  They  did  dance  altogether 
contrey  dances,  and  did  jumpe  and  leape 
as  those  creatures  which  live  upon  your 
mountaines.  They  were  eleven  or 
twelve    ladys    and    as    many  courtiers. 


The    Court   of  Charles    II 


147 


Mrs.  Stuard  was  thei'e,  who  was  extra- 
ordinary mary.  After  dancing  she  did 
sing  four  or  five  French  songs,  as  well 
as  ever  I  heard  any  woman  sing. 


6.  Extracts  from  Pepys  and  Evelyn. 

Pepys. 

Jan.  29th,  1666. 

Mr.  Evelyn  and  I  into  my  Lord 
Brouncker's  coach,  and  rode  together, 
with  excellent  discourse  till  we  come  to 
Clapham,  talking  of  the  vanity  and 
vices  of  the  Court,  which  makes  it  a 
most  contemptible  thing  ;  and,  indeed, 
in  all  his  discourse,  I  find  him  a  most 
worthy  person. 

April  15th,  1666. 

(Lord's  Day.)  Walked  into  the 
Park,  to  the  Queen's  Chapel,  and  there 
heard  a  good  deal  of  their  mass,  and 
some  of  their  music,  which  is  not  so 
contemptible,  I  think,  as  our  people 
would  make  it ;  it  pleasing  me  very 
well,  and,  indeed,  better  than  the 
anthem  I  heard  afterwards  at  White- 
hall, at  my  coming  back.  I  stayed  till 
the  King  went  down  to  receive  the  sac- 
rament, and  stood  in  his  closet  with  a 
great  many  others,  and  there  saw  him 
receive  it,  which  I  never  did  see  the 
manner  of  before.  But  I  do  see  very 
little  difference  between  the  degree  of 
the  ceremonies  used  by  our  people  in 
the  administration  thereof,  and  that  in 
the  Roman  Church,  saving  that,  rae- 
thought,  our  chapel  was  not  so  fine. 

July  7th,  1666. 
Creed  tells  me  he  finds  all  things 
mighty  dull  at  Court  [after  the  Plague 
and  Fire],  and  that  they  now  begin  to 
lie  long  in  bed  ;  it  being,  as  we  suppose, 
not  seemly  for  them  to  be  found  playing 
and  gaming  as  they  used  to  be ;  nor 
that  their  minds  are  at  ease  enough  to 
follow  those  sports,  and  yet  not  know- 
ing how  to  employ  themselves ;  though 


there  be  work  enough  for  their  thoughts 
and  councils  and  pains,  they  keep  long 
in  bed.  But  he  thinks  with  me,  that 
there  is  nothing  in  the  world  can  help 
us  but  the  King's  personal  looking  after 
his  business  and  his  officers,  and  that 
with  that  we  may  yet  do  well,  but 
otherwise  must  be  undone ;  nobody  at 
this  day  taking  care  of  anything,  nor 
hath  anybody  to  call  him  to  account 
for  it. 

July  31st. 
The  Court  empty,  the  King  being 
gone  to  Tunbridge,  and  the  Duke  of 
York  a-hunting.  I  had  some  discourse 
with  Povy,  who  is  mightily  discon- 
tented, I  find,  about  his  disappointments 
at  Court ;  and  says,  of  all  places,  if 
there  be  hell,  it  is  here;  no  faith,  no 
truth,  no  love,  nor  any  agreement 
between  man  and  wife,  nor  friends. 
He  would  have  spoke  broader,  but  I 
put  it  off  to  another  time  ;  and  so  parted. 

Sept.  26,  1666. 

.  .  .  He  [Mr.  Evelyn]  observes  that 
none  of  the  nobility  come  out  of  the 
country  at  all,  to  help  the  King,  or  com- 
fort him,  or  prevent  commotions  at  this 
fire,  but  do  as  if  the  King  were  nobody, 
nor  ne'er  a  priest  comes  to  give  the 
King  and  Court  good  counsel,  or  to 
comfort  the  poor  people  that  suffer : 
but  all  is  dead,  nothing  of  good  in  any 
of  their  minds.  He  bemoans  it,  and 
says  he  fears  more  ruin  hangs  over  our 
heads. 

Evelyn. 

Oct.  10,  1666. 

This  day  was  order' d  a  generall  fast 
thro'  the  Nation,  to  humble  us  on  ye 
late  dreadfull  conflagration,  added  to 
the  plague  and  war,  the  most  dismall 
judgments  that  could  be  inflicted,  but 
which  indeed  we  highly  deserv'd  for 
our  prodigious  ingratitude,  burning 
lusts,  dissolute  court,  profane  and 
abominable  lives. 


148 


The    Court   of  Charles    II 


Pepys. 

Oct.  15th,  1666. 
This  day  the  King  begins  to  put  on 
his  vest,  and  I  did  see  several  persons 
of  the  House  of  Lords  and  Commons 
too,  great  courtiers,  who  are  in  it ; 
being  a  long  cassock  close  to  the  body 
of  black  cloth,  and  pinked  with  white 
silk  under  it,  and  a  coat  over  it,  and 
the  legs  ruffled  with  black  riband  like 
a  pigeon's  leg;  and,  upon  the  whole, 
I  wish  the  King  may  keep  it,  for  it  is  a 
very  fine  and  handsome  garment. 

Oct.  17th,  1666. 
The  Court  is  all  full  of  vests,  only 
my  Lord  St.  Albans  not  pinked,  but 
plain  black ;  and  they  say  the  King 
says  the  pinking  upon  whites  makes 
them  look  too  much  like  magpies,  and, 
therefore,  hath  bespoken  one  of  plain 
velvet. 

Evelyn. 

Oct.  18th,  1666. 
To  Court.  It  being  ye  first  time  his 
Majesty  put  himself  solemnly  into  the 
Eastern  fashion  of  vest,  changeing 
doublet,  stiff  collar,  bands  and  cloake, 
into  a  comely  dress,  after  ye  Persian 
mode,  with  girdle  or  straps,  and  shoe- 
strings or  garters  into  bouckles,  of 
which  some  were  set  with  precious 
stones,  resolving  never  to  alter  it,  and 
to  leave  the  French  mode,  which  had 
had  hitherto  obtain' d  to  our  great 
expence  and  reproch.  Upon  which 
divers  courtiers  and  gentlemen  gave  his 
Majesty  gold  by  way  of  wager  that  he 
would  not  persist  in  this  resolution. 
[As  he  did  not. — Ed.] 

Jan.  18th,  1666-7. 
I  was  present  at  a  magnificent  ball 
or  masque  in  the  theater  at  court,  where 
their  majesties  and  all  the  greate  lords 
and  ladies  daunced,  infinitely  gallant, 
the  men  in  their  richly  embroidered 
most  becoming  vests. 


April  23rd,  1667. 
.  .  .  At  ye  banquet  (of  the  Knights 
of  the  Garter)  came  in  the  Queene  and 
stood  by  the  King's  left  hand,  but  did 
not  sit.  Then  was  the  banquetting 
stuff  flung  about  the  room  profusely. 
...  I  now  staied  no  longer  than  this 
sport  began  for  feare  of  disorder.  The 
cheere  was  extraordinary,  each  knight 
having  40  dishes  to  his  messe,  piled  up 
5  or  6  high.  The  roome  was  hung 
with  ye  richest  tapessry. 

June  1 6th,  1670. 
I  went  with  some  friends  to  ye  Bear 
Garden,  where  was  cock-fighting,  dog- 
fighting,  beare  and  bull-baiting,  it 
being  a  famous  day  for  all  these  butch- 
erly sports,  or  rather  barbarous  cruel- 
ties. The  bulls  did  exceeding  well,, 
but  the  Irish  wolfe-dog  exceeded,  which 
was  a  tall  greyhound,  a  stately  creature 
indeede,  who  beat  a  cruell  mastiff. 
One  of  the  bulls  toss'd  a  dog  full  into 
a  lady's  lap,  as  she  sate  in  one  of  ye 
boxes  at  a  considerable  height  from 
the  arena.  Two  poore  dogs  were 
kill'd,  and  so  all  ended  with  the  ape 
on  horseback,  and  I  most  heartily 
weary  of  the  rude  and  dirty  pastime,, 
which  I  had  not  seene  I  think,  in  twenty 
yeares  before. 


7.  Extracts  from  the  Rutland  Cor- 
respondence. (In  1 2th  Report  of  MS. 
Commission.     Appendix,  Part  V.) 

Lady  Mary  Bertie  to  her  niece, 
Katherine  Noel,  at  Exton. 

November,  1670. 
I  received  yours,  but  haveing  not  yett 
been  at  Court  cannott  give  you  a  punc- 
tuall  account  of  the  fashions,  but  upon 
the  Queene' s  Birthday  most  wore  em- 
braudered  bodys  with  plaine  black  skirts, 
of  Morella  Mohair  and  Prunella  and 
such  stuffs,  and   the    under    pettycoatt 


The   Court   of  Charles    II. 


149 


very  richly  laced  with  two  or  three 
sorts  of  lace,  so  that  50  or  60  pounds 
but  an  ordinary  price  for  a  petty- 
cote.   .   .   . 

Dec.  ic,  Westminster. 
I  received  yours  and  am  very  glad  to 
heare  you  are  so  merry  with  the  musicke 
and  danceing.  I  was  at  Courte  the 
other  night  where  I  met  withe  the 
Dutchesse  of  Buckingham,  who  was 
very  kind  to  mee  and  presented  mee  to 
kisse  the  Queene's  hand.  They  weare 
their  gownes  as  I  writ  to  you  before, 
but  I  thinke  the  fashions  of  their  rib- 
bans  and  haire  alters  according  to  every 
bodys  fancy,  for  some  ware  all  small 
ribban,  others  brode  ribbans,  others 
broad  and  small  mixed  and  all  frowzes 
of  their  owen  haire.    .   .   . 

Jan.  2nd. 
.  .  ."There  is  letely  come  out  a  new 
play  writ  by  Mr.  Dreyden  who  made 
the  Indian  Emperor.  It  is  caled  the 
Conquest  of  Grenada.  My  brother 
Norreys  tooke  a  box  and  carryed  my 
Lady  Rochester  and  his  mistresse  and 
all  us  to.   .   .   . 

Feb.  23rd. 
...  I  was  on  Munday  at  Court  to 
see  the  grane  ballett  danced.  It  was  so 
hard  to  get  room  that  wee  were  forced 
to  goe  by  four  a  clocke,  though  it  did 
not  begin  till  nine  or  ten.  They  were 
very  richly  dressed  and  danced  very 
finely,  and  shifted  their  clothes  three 
times.  There  was  also  fine  musickes 
and  excelent  sing  some  new  song  made 
purpose  for  it.  After  the  ballet  was 
over,  several  others  danced,  as  the  King, 
and  Duke  of  Yorke,  and  Duke  of 
Somerset,  and  Duke  of  Buckingham. 
And  the  Dutchesse  of  Cleveland  was 
very  fine  in  a  riche  petticoat  and  halfe 
shirte,  and  a  short  man's  coat  very 
richly  laced,  a  perwig  cravatt  and  a 
hat :  her  hat  and  maske  was  very  rich." 


Sir  Ed.  Harley  to  Lady  Harley. 

(In  MS.  Commission,  14th  Report, 
Appendix.) 

March  11,  1 670-1. 

.  .  .  Sin  every  day  grows  high  and 
impudent ;  as  we  have  seen  that  God 
would  not  be  worked  by  hypocrits,  as 
certaynly  he  will  not  be  defyed  by  pro- 
fane atheists.  The  Lord,  I  trust,  will 
graciously  provide  a  hiding  place  for 
his  poor  children. 


8.  Extracts  from  Evelyn. 

Oct.  2 1  st,  1 67 1. 

Quitting  Euston,  I  lodged  this  night 
at  New- market,  where  I  found  ye  jolly 
blades  raceing,  dauncing,  feasting,  and 
revelling,  more  resembling  a  luxurious 
and  abandon' d  rout,  than  a  Christian 
Court.  The  Duke  of  Buckingham  was 
now  in  mighty  favour,  and  had  with  him 
that  impudent  woman  the  Countess  of 
Shrewsbury,  with  his  band  of  fidlers, 
etc.  .   .   . 

March  12th,  167 1-2. 

The  Treasurer  of  the  Household,  Sir 
Tho.  Clifford,  hinted  to  me  as  a  confi- 
dent, that  his  Majesty  would  shut  up 
the  Exchequer,  and  accordingly  his 
Majesty  made  use  of  infinite  treasure 
there,  to  prepare  for  an  intended  rup- 
ture [with  the  Dutch]  ;  but,  says  he,  it 
will  soone  be  open  again  and  every 
body  satisfied ;  for  this  bold  man,  who 
had  ben  the  sole  adviser  of  the  King  to 
invade  that  sacred  stock  .  .  .  was  so 
over-confident  of  the  successe  of  this 
unworthy  designe  against  the  Smyrna 
merchants,  as  to  put  his  Majesty  on  an 
action  which  not  onely  lost  the  hearts 
of  his  subjects,  and  ruined  many  wid- 
dows  and  orphans  whose  stocks  were 
lent  him,  but  the  reputation  of  his  Ex- 
chequer forever,  it  being  before  in  such 
credit,  that  he  might  have  commanded 
halfe  the  wealth  of  the  nation. 


oz 


150 


The    Court    of   Charles    II. 


The  credit  of  this  bank  being  thus 
broken  did  exceedingly  discontent  the 
people,  and  never  did  his  Majesty's 
affairs  prosper  to  any  purpose  after  it, 
for  as  it  did  not  supply  the  expence  of 
the  meditated  war,  so  it  mealted  away, 
I  know  not  how.  To  this  succeeded 
the  King's  declaration  for  an  universal 
tolle-ration ;  Papists  and  swarms  of 
sectaries  now  boldly  shewing  them- 
selves in  their  public  meetings. 

Oct.  8th,  1672. 
I  tooke  leave  of  my  Lady  Sunder- 
land. .  .  .  She  made  me  stay  dinner 
at  Leicester  House  and  afterwards  sent 
for  Richardson  the  famous  fire-eater. 
He  devour' d  brimston  on  glowing 
coales  before  us,  chewing  and  swal- 
lowing them ;  he  mealted  a  beere-glass* 
and  eate  it  quite  up ;  then  taking  a  live 
coale  on  his  tongue,  he  put  on  it  a  raw 
oyster,  the  coal  was  blown  on  with 
bellows  till  it  flam'd  and  sparkl'd  in 
his  mouth,  and  so  remain' d  till  the 
oyster  gaped  and  was  quite  boil'd; 
then  he  mealted  pitch  and  wax  with 
sulphur,  which  he  drank  downe  as  it 
flamed ;  I  saw  it  flaming  in  his  mouth 
a  good  while.    .   .   . 

March  29th,  1673. 
...  At  the  sermon  coram  rege, 
preached  by  Dr.  Sparrow.  ...  I 
staied  to  see  whether  according  to  cos- 
tome  the  Duke  of  York  received  the 
communion  with  the  King ;  but  he  did 
not  to  the  amazement  of  everybody. 
This  being  the  second  yeare  he  had 
forborne  and  put  it  off,  and  within  a 
day  of  the  Parliament  sitting,  who  had 
lately  made  so  severe  an  act  against  ye 
increase  of  Poperie,  gave  exceeding 
grief  and  scandal  to  the  whole  nation, 
that  the  heyre  of  it,  and  ye  son  of  a 
martyr  for  ye  Protestant  religion, 
should  apostatize.  What  the  conse- 
quence of  this  will  be,  God  onely 
knows,  and  wise  men  dread. 


Nov.  5,  1673. 
This  night  the  youths  of  the  Citty 
burnt  the  Pope  in  effigie,  after  they  had 
made  procession  with  it  in  great  tri- 
umph, they  being  displeas'd  at  the 
Duke  for  altering  his  religion  and 
marrying  an  Italian  lady  [Mary  of 
Modena]. 

Nov.  15th,  1673. 
.   .   .   Being   her  Majesty's  birthday, 
the  Court  was    exceeding    splendid    in 
clothes   and   jewels,   to   the    height   of 
excesse. 


9.  Letters  of  Lady  Cha worth  to  her 
brother,  Lord  Roos,  at  Belvoir  Castle. 
(In  1 2th  Report  of  MS.  Commission, 
5th  Appendix,  p.  31.) 

Nov.  2nd,  1676. 
.  .  .  Mighty  bravery  in  clothes  pre- 
paring for  the  Queen's  birthday,  es- 
peicially  Mis  Phraser,  whose  gowne  is 
ermine  upon  velvet  imbroidered  with 
gold  and  lined  with  cloth  of  gold ; 
'twill  come  to  300/.,  and  frights  Sir 
Carr  Scroope,  who  is  much  in  love 
with  her,  from  marying  her,  saying  his. 
estate  will  scarce  maintaine  her  in 
clothes. 

Nov.  9. 
Mr.  Bernard  Howard  made  one  of 
the  greatest  and  most  absolute  French 
feast  that  ever  I  saw  last  Tuesday  att 
Somerset  House,  and  but  eleven  of  us 
att  it ;  and  the  clothes  last  night  at  the 
Queene's  birth-night  ball  was  infinite 
rich,  espeicially  Mis  Phraser,  who  put 
downe  all  for  a  gowne  black  velvet 
imbroydered  with  all  sorts  of  slips 
inbost  worke  of  gold  and  silver  and 
peticote  one  broad  ermine  and  gold 
lace  all  over,  yet  I  doe  not  approve  the 
fancy  of  either,  though  they  say  [it]  cost 
800/. ;  but  her  face  and  shape  must  be 
approved  by  everybody  :  the  men  also 
very  rich. 


The    Court    of  Charles    II. 


151 


Nov.  23rd. 

For  niewse,  the  King  sup't  two 
nights  agoe  with  Mr.  Griffin,  etc.,  and 
all  the  jockeys  being  invited  to  meet 
his  Majestie  :  and  there  they  have  made 
four  matches  to  be  run  at  Newmarket. 
.  .  .  Mis  Jennings  and  her  daughter 
[later  duchess  of  Marlborough. — Ed.], 
maid  of  honour  to  the  Dutchesse,  have 
had  so  great  a  falling  out  that  they 
fought ;  the  young  one  complained  to 
the  Duchess  that  if  her  mother  was  not 
put  out  of  St.  James's,  where  she  had 
lodgings  to  sanctuary  her  from  debt, 
she  would  run  away,  so  Sir  Alleyn 
Epsley  was  sent  to  bid  the  mother 
remoove,  who  answered  with  all  her 
heart  she  should  never  dispute  the 
Duke  and  Dutchesses  commands,  but 
with  the  grace  of  God  she  would  take 
her  daughter  away  with  her  [intimating 
in  very  coarse  terms  what  sort  of  a 
place  she  considered  the  court].  So, 
rather  than  part  with  her,  the  mother 
must  stay  and  all  breaches  are  made 
up  againe. 

Dec.  12. 

.  .  .  Hei*e  is  no  niewse  but  balls  and 
plays  and  the  King  having  a  sledge  after 
the  Muscovite  fashion  that  with  a  fine 
accoustred  horse  pulls  him  round  his 
fine  canalls  of  St.  James  Parke. 

Dec.  25. 
Lady  Sussex  is  not  yet  gone.  .  .  . 
She  and  Madam  Mazarin  have  privately 
learnt  to  fence,  and  went  down  into  St. 
James  Parke  the  other  day  with  drawne 
swords  under  theire  night  gownes,  which 
they  drew  out  and  made  severall  fine 
passes  with,  to  the  admiration  of  severall 
men  that  was  lookers  on  in  the  Parke. 
.  .  .  The  Dutchesse  [of  Yorke]  is  much 
delighted  with  making  and  throwing  of 
snow-balls  and  pelted  the  Duke  soundly 
with  one  the  other  day  and  ran  away 
quick  into  her  closet  and  he  after  her, 
but  she  durst  not  open  the  doore.     She 


hath  also  great  pleasure  in  one  of  those 
sledges  which  they  call  Trainias,  and 
is  pulled  up  and  downe  the  ponds  in 
them  every  day,  as  also  the  King, 
which  are  counted  dangerous  things, 
and  none  can  drive  the  horse  which 
draws  them  about  but  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth,  Mr.  Griffin,  and  Mr.  Godol- 
phin,  and  a  fourth  whose  name  I  have 
forgot.  .  .  .  Mis  Sarah  Jennings  hath 
got  the  better  of  her  mother  who  is 
commanded  to  leave  the  Court  and  her 
daughter  in  itt,  notwithstanding  the 
mother's  petition  that  she  might  have 
her  girle  with  her,  the  girle  saying  she 
is  a  mad  woman.    .   .   . 

Jan.  19,  1676-7. 
Theire  is  two  niewe  plays  which  are 
much  comended — the  Siege  of  Jerusa- 
lem by  the  Emperour  Vespasian,  and 
his  son  Titus's  love  with  Berenice  ;  the 
epilogue  is  much  praysed  that  tells  tis 
not  like  to  please  this  age  to  bring  them 
a  story  of  Jerusalem  who  would  more 
delight  in  one  of  Sodome  and  a  vertu- 
ous  woman  which  in  this  age  they 
promise  shan't  be  seene  but  on  the  stage. 

Edward  S?nith  to  Lord  Roos. 

Feb.  8,  1676-7. 
.  .  .  His  Majesty,  whom  God  pre- 
serve, went  on  Munday  last  to  Windsor 
to  see  his  workemen,  and  with  a  design 
to  stay  all  the  weeke  there,  but  on 
Wednesday  night  some  of  his  courtiers 
fell  to  their  cups  and  drunke  away  all 
reason,  at  last  they  began  to  despise  art 
to,  and  brake  into  Prince  Rupert's 
Laboratory  and  dashed  his  stiHs  and 
other  chymicall  instruments  in  pieces. 
His  Majesty  went  to  bed  about  12 
aclock,  but  about  2  or  3  aclock  one  of 
Henry  Killigrew's  men  was  stabbed  in 
the  company  in  the  next  chamber  to  the 
King.  They  say  he  murdered  himselfe 
amongst  them  because  of  some  distast 
betwixt  his  master  and    him  :    how  it 


152 


The    Court    of  Charles    II. 


was  God  knowes :  but  the  Duke  ran 
speedily  to  His  Majesty's  bed  and  drew 
the  curtaine,  and  said  "Sir,  will  you 
lye  in  bed  till  you  have  your  throat  cut  ? ' ' 
whereupon  His  Majesty  got  up  at  three 
aclock  in  the  night  and  came  immedi- 
ately away  to  Whitehall. 

Lady  Chaivorth  to  Lord  Roos. 

April  ii,  1678. 
.  .  .  The  quarrells  of  some  ladies 
hath  made  great  talke  in  the  towne  and 
much  laughing.  Mis  Baker  first  began 
with  a  bitter  letter  to  my  Lady  Angle- 
sey, yet  concluded,  "  a  lover  of  her 
soule."  This  highly  incenced  the  lady, 
and  Mis  Baker  not  forbeaiing  her  house 
upon  itt,  she  threw  some  things  att  her 
to  have  her  goe  out  of  the  rome.  The 
other  two  ladies  is  Lady  Mohun  and 
Mis  Browne,  the  deare  friends,  but  it  is 
too  long  for  any  letter  :  but  in  short  they 
were  att  cards  att  one  Mis  Roberts's 
lodgings,  and  oneMis  Love  being  land- 
lady of  the  house  an  exchange  woman, 
Lady  Mohun' s  pages  spit  in  that  Mis 
Love's  daughter's  face,  and  so  the 
mother  would  have  turned  him  out  of 
the  house,  but  he  ran  up  to  his  lady,  and 
so  the  exchange  woman  followed  him, 
and  the  quarrell  began  between  her  and 
the  lady  with  ill- words  and  candlesticks  ; 
and  so  the  lady  petitioned  the  House 
upon  breach  of  privilege,  and  her  father 
brought  itt  in,  but  Mis  Browne,  Mis 
Roberts  and  her  husband  came  in 
against  Lady  Mohun,  and  made  her 
the  provoker,  so  the  House  of  Lords 
threw  itt  out,  and  left  them  to  the  law. 
.  .  .  And  it  entertained  the  King 
mightily  who  was  att  the  House,  and 
desired  that  he  might  be  judge  whether 
the  candlesticke  had  hurt  my  Lady 
Mohun' s  knee.  I  wish  it  may  be 
some  entertainment  to  your  melancholy 
spleen,  which  I  suspect  the  chiefe  fo- 
menter  of  all  your  diseases. 


Extracts  from  Evelyn. 

July  15th,  1683. 

The  public  was  now  in  greate  con- 
sternation on  the  late  plot  and  conspir- 
acy ;  his  Majestie  very  melancholy,  and 
not  stirring  without  double  guards  ;  all 
the  avenues  and  private  dores  about 
White-hall  and  the  Park  shut  up,  few 
admitted  to  walke  in  it.  The  Papists  in 
the  meane  time  very  jocund.   .   .   . 

The  Turks  were  likewise  in  hostility 
against  the  German  Emperor,  almost 
masters  of  the  Upper  Hungary,  and 
drawing  towards  Vienna.  On  the 
other  side  the  French  King  (who  'tis 
believed  brought  in  the  infidels)  dis- 
turbing his  Spanish  and  Dutch  neigh- 
bors, having  swallow' d  up  almost  all 
Flanders,  pursuing  his  ambition  of  a 
fifth  universal  monarch ;  and  all  this 
blood  and  disorder  in  Christendom  had 
evidently  its  rise  from  our  defections  at 
home,  in  a  wanton  peace,  minding 
nothing  but  luxurie,  ambition,  and  to 
procure  money  for  our  vices.  To  this 
add  our  irreligion  and  atheism,  greate 
ingratitude,  and  selfe  interest;  the 
apostacy  of  some,  and  the  suffering  the 
French  to  grow  so  greate,  and  the  Dutch 
so  weake.  In  a  word,  we  were  wanton , 
madd,  and  surfeiting  with  prosperity ; 
every  moment  unsettling  the  old  founda- 
tions, and  never  constant  to  anything. 
The  Lord  in  mercy  avert  the  sad  omen, 
and  that  we  do  not  provoke  him  till  he 
beare  it  no  longer  ! 

July  25th,  1683. 
I  againe  saw  Prince  George  of  Den- 
mark :  he  had  the  Danish  countenance, 
blonde,  of  few  words,  spake  French 
but  ill,  seem'd  somewhat  heavy,  but 
reported  to  be  valiant,  and  indeede  he 
had  bravely  rescu'd  and  brought  off  his 
brother  the  King  of  Denmark  in  a 
battaile  against  the  Swedes,  when  both 
these  Kings  were  engag'd  very  smartly. 


The    Court    of  Charles    II. 


•53 


28th. 

He  was  married  to  the  Lady  Anne  at 
White-hall.  Her  court  and  household 
to  be  modell'd  as  the  Duke's,  her  father, 
had  been  and  they  to  continue  in 
England. 

Note  of  Lord  Dartmouth  to  a  Pas- 
sage in  Burnet. 
Prince  George  of  Denmark  was  the 
most  indolent  of  all  mankind,  had  given 
great  proofs  of  bravery  in  his  own 
country,  where  he  was  much  beloved. 
King  Charles  II  told  my  father  he  had 
tried  him,  drunk  and  sober,  but  "  God's 
fish,"  there  was  nothing  in  him.  His 
behaviour  at  the  revolution  [1688] 
shewed  he  could  be  made  a  tool  of 
upon  occasion ;  but  King  William 
treated  him  with  the  utmost  contempt. 
When  Queen  Anne  came  to  the  throne, 
she  shewed  him  little  respect,  but 
expected  everybody  else  should  give 
him  more  than  was  his  due :  but  it 
was  soon  found  out  that  his  interpos- 
ing was  a  prejudice  in  obtaining 
favours  at  court.  All  foreign  princes 
had  him  in  very  low  esteem.  .  .  . 
After  thirty  years  living  in  England  he 
died  of  eating  and  drinking,  without 
any  man's  thinking  himself  obliged  to 
him  :  but  I  have  been  told  that  he  would 
sometimes  do  ill  offices,  though  he 
never  did  a  good  one. 

11.  Extract  from  Evelyn. 

Feb.  4th,  1685. 

I  went  to  London,  hearing  his  Maj- 
esty had  been  the  Monday  before  (Feb. 
2 . )  surpriz'  d  in  his  bed-chamber  with  an 
apoplectic  fit,  so  that  if .  .  .  .  Dr.  King 
.  .  .  had  not  been  present  to  let  him  blood 
.  .  .  his  Majesty  had  certainly  died 
that  moment.  .  .  .  This  rescued  his 
Majesty  for  the  instant,  but  it  was  only 
a  short  reprieve.  He  still  complained 
.  .  .  with  sometimes  epileptic  symp- 
toms .   .   .   for  which  he  was  cupp'd,  let 


bloud  in  both  jugulars,  had  both  vomit 
and  purges  .  .  .  which  .  .  .  relieved 
him.  .  .  .  They  prescribed  the  famous 
Jesuits  powder;  but  it  made  him 
worse,  and  some  very  able  doctors  who 
were  present  did  not  think  it  a  fever, 
but  the  effect  of  his  bleeding  and  other 
sharp  operations  us'd  by  them  about 
his  head.  .  .  .  Thursday  night  .  .  . 
they  drew  12  ounces  more  of  blood 
from  him. 

Extracts  from  Fount ainhalV s 

Memoirs. 

(Edinborough,  1837.) 

1685. 
.  .  .  His  Quean,  throw  sickenesse 
not  being  able  to  come  to  him,  sent  to 
ask  his  pardon  and  how  he  was ;  he 
answered,  "ah,  poor  Lady,  many  a 
tyme  have  I  wronged  her,  but  shee 
never  did  me  wrong." 


Letter  of  the  French  Envoy  Bar- 
illon  to  Louis  XIV.  (In  Dalrymple's 
Memoirs.  London  1790.  Vol.  L  Ap- 
pendix, p.  152.) 

Feb.  18,  1685. 

...  I  was  five  hours  in  the  King's 
anti-chamber.  The  Duke  of  York 
made  me  come  into  the  bed-chamber 
several  times,  and  spoke  to  me  of  what 
was  passing  without  doors,  and  of  the 
assurances  given  him  from  every  quar- 
ter that  all  was  very  quiet  in  the  town, 
and  that  he  should  be  proclaimed  King 
the  moment  the  King  his  brother  was 
dead.  I  went  out  for  some  time  to  go 
to  the  Duchess  of  Portsmouth's  apart- 
ment. I  found  her  overwhelmed  with 
grief.  .  .  .  She  said  to  me,  "Monsieur 
the  ambassador,  I  am  going  to  tell  you 
the  greatest  secret  in  the  world,  and  my 
head  would  be  in  danger  if  it  was 
known.  The  King  of  England  at  the 
bottom  of  his  heart  is  a  Catholic ;  but 
he  is  surrounded  with  Protestant  bishops, 
and  nobody  tells  him  his  condition,  or 
speaks  to  him  of  God  :  I  can  not  with 
decency  enter  the  room,  besides  that  the 


154 


The    Court    of  Charles    II, 


Queen  is  almost  constantly  there ;  the 
Duke  of  York  thinks  of  his  own  affairs. 
...  Go  and  tell  him  I  have  conjured 
you  to  warn  him  to  think  of  what  can 
be  done  to  save  the  King's  soul.  He 
commands  the  room  and  can  turn  out 
whom  he  will.   .   .   . 

I  returned  instantly  to  find  the  Duke 
of  York  .  .  .  and  told  him  what  the 
Duchess-  of  Portsmouth  said  to  me.  He 
recovered  himself  as  from  a  deep  leth- 
argy, and  said,  "  You  are  in  the  right : 
there  is  no  time  to  lose.  I  will  hazard 
all  rather  than  not  do  my  duty  on  this 
occasion."    .    .   . 

We  thought  of  various  expedients. 
The  Duke  of  York  proposed  that  I 
should  ask  leave  to  speak  to  the  King 
his  brother,  to  tell  him  something  in 
secret  from  your  Majesty,  and  that 
everybody  should  go  out.  I  offered  to 
do  so  ;  but  represented  to  him,  that  be- 
sides the  great  rumour  it  would  make, 
there  was  no  likelihood  of  my  being 
allowed  to  remain  in  private  with  the 
King  of  England  and  himself  long 
enough  for  what  we  had  to  do.  At 
last  .  .  .  without  any  further  pre- 
caution, the  Duke  of  York  stooped 
down  to  the  King  his  brother's  ear, 
after  having  ordered  that  no  one  should 
approach.  I  was  in  the  room,  and 
more  than  20  persons  at  the  door, 
which  was  open.  What  the  Duke  of 
York  said  was  not  heard ;  but  the  King 
of  England  said  from  time  to  time  very 
loud,  Tes,  with  all  my  heart.  He 
sometimes  made  the  Duke  of  York 
repeat  what  he  said,  because  he  did  not 
easily  hear  him.  This  lasted  near  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  The  Duke  of  York 
again  went  out  as  if  he  had  gone  to 
the  Queen,  and  said  to  me,  "  The  King 
has  consented  that  I  should  bring  a 
priest  to  him  ;  but  I  dare  not  bring  any 
of  the  Duchess's:  They  are  too  well 
known:  Send  and  find  one  quickly." 
.  .   .  The  Earl  of    Castlemethor  went 


where  the  Queen's  priests  were,  and 
found  amongst  them  one  Hudelston  a 
Scotchman,  who  saved  the  King  of 
England  after  the  battle  of  Worcester, 
and  who  by  act  of  Parliament  had  been 
excepted  from  all  the  laws  made  against 
the  catholics  and  against  the  priests. 
They  put  a  wig  and  gown  on  him  to 
disguise  him,  and  the  Earl  of  Castle- 
methor conducted  him  to  the  door  of  an 
apartment  that  joined  by  a  small  step  to 
the  King's  chamber.  The  Duke  of 
York  .  .  .  sent  Chiffins  to  receive  and 
bring  in  Mr.  Hudelston  :  Soon  after, 
he  said  aloud,  "The  King  wills  that 
everybody  should  retire,  except  the 
Earles  of  Bath  and  Feversham  : ' '  the 
first  was  lord  of  the  bed-chamber,  and 
the  other  was  in  waiting.  The  physi- 
cians went  into  a  closet,  the  door  of 
which  was  immediately  shut,  and 
Chiffins  brought  Mr.  Hudelston  in. 
The  Duke  of  York,  in  presenting  him, 
said,  "  Sire,  here  is  a  man  who  saved 
your  life,  and  is  now  come  to  save  your 
soul."  The  King  answered,  "He  is 
welcome."  He  afterwards  confessed 
himself  with  great  sentiments  of  devo- 
tion and  repentance.  .  .  .  He  then 
received  absolution,  the  communion, 
and  even  the  extreme  unction  :  All  this 
lasted  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour. 
In  the  anti-chamber,  every  one  looked 
at  another;  but  nobody  said  anything 
but  by  their  eyes  and  in  whispers.  The 
presence  of  Lord  Bath  and  Lord  Fever- 
sham,  who  are  Protestants,  has  satisfied 
the  bishops  a  little;  but  the  Queen's 
women,  and  the  other  priests,  saw  so 
much  going  and  coming,  that  I  do  not 
think  the  secret  can  be  long  kept.   .   .   . 

Extract  from  Burnet. 

.  .  .  The  King  suffered  much  ^  in- 
wardly, and  said,  he  was  burnt  up 
within  ;  of  which  he  complained  often, 
but  with  great  decency.  He  said  once, 
he  hoped  he  should  climb  up  to  heaven's. 


The    Court   of  Charles    II. 


155 


gates,  which  was  the  only  word  savour- 
ing of  religion  that  he  was  heard  to 
speak.  He  gathered  all  his  strength  to 
speak  his  last  words  to  the  Duke.  .  .  . 
He  recommended  lady  Portsmouth  over 
and  over  again  to  him  .  .  .  and  be- 
sought the  duke,  in  as  melting  words 
as  he  could  fetch  out,  to  be  very  kind 
to  her  and  to  her  son.  He  recom- 
mended his  other  children  to  him  :  and 
concluded,  Let  not  poor  Nelly  starve; 
that  was  Mrs.  Gwynn.  But  he  said 
nothing  of  the  queen. 

.  .  .  He  continued  in  the  agony  till 
Friday  at  eleven  o'clock,  being  the 
sixth  of  February  1684-5 ;  and  then 
died  in  the  54th  year  of  his  age.  .  .  . 
There  were  many  very  apparent  suspi- 
cions of  his  being  poisoned.  .  .  .  Both 
Lower  and  Needham  two  famous  physi- 
cians, told  me,  they  plainly  discerned 
two  or  three  blue  spots  on  the  outside 
of  the  stomach.  Needham  called  twice 
to  have  it  opened :  but  the  surgeons 
seemed  not  to  hear  him.  .  .  .  They 
were  diverted  to  look  to  somewhat  else  : 
and  when  they  returned  to  look  upon 
the  stomach,  it  was  carried  away:  so 
that  it  was  never  viewed.  .  .  .  The 
King's  body  was  indecently  neglected. 
Some  parts  of  his  inwards,  and  some 
pieces  of  the  fat,  were  left  in  the  water 
in  which  they  were  washed  :  all  which 
were  so  carelessly  looked  after,  that  the 
water  being  poured  out  at  a  scullery 
hole  that  went  to  a  drain,  in  the  mouth 
of  which  a  grate  lay,  these  were  seen 
lying  on  the  grate  many  days  after.  His 
funeral  was  very  mean.  He  did  not 
lie  in  state  :  no  mournings  were  given  : 
and  the  expence  of  it  was  not  equal  to 
what  an  ordinary  nobleman's  funeral 
will  rise  to.   .   .   . 

Extract  from  FountainhalV s 
Memoirs. 

It  was  alledged  to  have  been  the 
King's   own    desire  to  be   so  interred  : 


others  said,  it  was  unfit  to  make  a  pub- 
lic solemnity,  unlesse  it  had  exceeded 
in  splendor  Cromwell's  funeral,  which 
would  have  been  very  expensive. 
These  restlesse  and  lying  phanatiques 
whispered,  they  did  not  love  his  sudden 
buriall,  as  if    it  had  looked    like    foul 

Play-  

12.  Extracts  from  Evelyn. 

.  .  .  He  was  a  Prince  of  many  vir- 
tues, and  many  great  imperfections ; 
debonaire,  easy  of  accesse,  not  bloudy 
nor  cruel ;  his  countenance  fierce,  his 
voice  greate,  proper  of  person,  every 
motion  became  him ;  a  lover  of  the 
sea,  and  skilfull  in  shipping  ;  not  affect- 
ing other  studies,  yet  he  had  a  labora- 
tory, and  knew  of  many  empyrical 
medicines,  and  the  easier  mechanical 
mathematics;  he  lov'd  planting  and 
building,  and  brought  in  a  politer  way 
of  living,  which  pass'd  to  luxury  and 
intolerable  expence.  He  had  a  partic- 
ular talent  in  telling  a  story,  and  face- 
tious passages,  of  which  he  had  innu- 
merable ;  this  made  some  buffoons  and 
vitious  wretches  too  presumptuous  and 
familiar,  not  worthy  the  favor  they 
abus'd.  .  .  .  The  history  of  his  reign 
will  certainely  be  the  most  wonderfull 
for  the  variety  of  matter  and  accidents, 
above  any  extant  in  former  ages :  the 
sad  tragical  death  of  his  father,  his 
banishment  and  hardships,  his  miracu- 
lous restauration,  conspiracies  against 
him,  parliaments,  wars,  plagues,  fires, 
comets,  revolutions  abroad  happening 
in  his  time,  with  a  thousand  other  par- 
ticulars. ...  I  can  never  forget  the 
inexpressible  luxury  and  prophaneness, 
gaming  and  all  dissoluteness,  and  as  it 
were  total  forgetfullness  of  God  (it 
being  Sunday  evening)  which  this  day 
se'ennight  I  was  witnesse  of,  the  King 
sitting  and  toying  with.  .  .  .  Ports- 
mouth, Cleaveland,  and  Mazarine,  etc., 
a    French    boy    singing    love-songs,   in 


156 


The    Court   of  Charles    II. 


that  glorious  gallery,  whilst  about  20 
of  the  greate  courtiers  and  other  disso- 
lute persons  were  at  bassett  round  a 
large  table,  a  bank  of  at  least  2000  in 
gold  before  them,  upon  which  two 
gentlemen  who  were  with  me  made  re- 
flexions with  astonishment.  Six  days 
after  was  all  in  the  dust.  It  was  en- 
joyned  that  those  who  put  on  mourn- 
ing should  wear  it  as  for  a  father,  in 
ye  most  solemn  manner. 

Extracts  from  Fountainhall. 

He  was  certainly  a  prince  indued 
with  many  Royall  qualities,  and  of 
whom  the  Divine  providence  had  taken 
a  speciall  care  by  preserving  him  after 
Worcester  fight  in  the  oak,  and  bring- 
ing him  miraculously  home  without  a 
drop  of  blood  shed ;  so  that  the  Em- 
peror of  the  Turks  said,  if  he  were  to 
change  his  religion,  he  would  choise  to 
worship  before  any,  the  King  of  Brit- 
tain's  God,  who  had  done  such  wonder- 
full  things  for  him.  ...  He  had  a 
naturall  mildnesse  and  command  over 
his  anger,  which  never  transported  him 
beyond  ane  innocent  puff  and  spitting, 
and  was  soon  over,  and  yet  commanded 
more  deference  from  his  peeple  then  if 
he  had  expressed  it  more  severely,  so 
great  respect  had  all  to  him.   .   .   . 

His  firmenesse  in  religion  was  evi- 
dent (  !)  ;  for  in  his  banishment  he  had 
great  invitations  and  offers  of  help  to 
restore  him  to  his  crown  if  he  would 
turne  Papist,  but  he  alwayes  refused  it. 


13.  Extracts  from  Welwood's  Diary. 
(Sixth  Edition.  London,  1718.  Page 
128.) 

.  .  .  Thus  reigned,  and  thus  dy'd 
King  Charles  II.,  a  Prince  endowed 
with  all  the  qualities  that  might  justly 
have  rendered  him  the  delight  of 
mankind  and  entitled  him  to  the  char- 
acter of  one  of  the  greatest  genius's  that 
ever  sat  upon  a  throne,  if  he  had  not 


sullied  those  excellent  parts  with  the 
soft  pleasures  of  ease.  .  .  .  His  per- 
son was  tall  and  well  made,  his  consti- 
tution was  vigorous  and  healthy  ;  and 
it  is  hard  to  determine,  whether  he  took 
more  pains  to  preserve  it  by  diet  and 
exercise,  or  to  impair  it  by  excess  in  his 
pleasures.  .  .  .  His  face  was  com- 
posed of  harsh  features,  difficult  to  be 
trac'd  with  the  pencil,  yet  in  the  main 
it  was  agreeable ;  and  he  had  a  noble, 
majestic  mien.  Ih  contradiction  to  all 
the  received  rules  of  physiognomy,  he 
was  merciful,  good  natured,  and  in  the 
last  24  years  of  his  life,  fortunate,  if 
to  succeed  in  most  of  his  designs  may 
be  called  so.  .  .  .  He  had  read  but 
little,  yet  had  a  good  taste  of  learn- 
ing, and  would  reason  nicely  upon 
most  sciences.  The  mechanicks  were 
one  of  his  peculiar  talents,  especially 
the  art  of  building  and  working  of 
ships ;  which  nobody  understood  better, 
nor,  if  he  had  liv'd,  would  have 
carried  it  farther.  He  had  a  strong, 
laconick  way  of  expression,  and  a  gen- 
teel, easy  and  polite  way  of  writing  : 
and  when  he  had  a  mind  to  lay  aside 
the  King,  which  he  often  did  in  select 
companies  of  his  own,  there  were  a 
thousand  irresistible  charms  in  his  con- 
versation. .  .  .  No  age  produced  a 
greater  master  in  the  art  of  dissimu- 
lation, and  yet  no  man  was  less  upon 
his  guard,  or  sooner  deceived  in  the 
sincerity  of  others.  .  .  .  He  .  .  .  had 
acquired  so  great  an  ascendant  over  the 
affections  of  his  people,  in  spite  of  all 
the  unhappy  measures  he  had  taken, 
that  it  may  in  some  sense  be  said,  he 
died  opportunely  for  England  ;  since  if 
he  had  liv'd,  it's  probable  we  might  in 
compliance  with  him  have  compli- 
mented ourselves  out  of  all  the  remains 
of  our  liberty,  if  he  had  had  but  a 
mind  to  be  master  of  them  ;  which  it's 
but  charity  to  believe  he  had  not,  at 
least  immediately  before  his  death. 


The    Court   of   Charles    II 


157 


There  is  one  thing  more  that  may 
help  to  make  up  the  character  of  this 
prince,  that  in  the  lines  and  shape  of 
his  face  (all  but  the  teeth)  he  had  a 
great  resemblance  of  the  ancient  bus- 
toes  and  statues  we  have  of  the 
Emperor  Tiberius.   .   .   . 

Extracts  from  Evelyn. 

Oct.  2nd,  1685. 
Having  a  letter  sent  me  by  Mr. 
Pepys  with  this  expression  at  the  foote 
of  it,  "I  have  something  to  shew  you 
that  I  may  not  have  another  time," 
and  that  I  would  not  fail  to  dine  with 
him,  I  accordingly  went.  After  din- 
ner he  .  .  .  told  us  that  being  lately 
alone  with  his  Majesty  [Jas.  II.]  .  .  . 
[the]  familiar  discourse  encouraged 
Mr.  Pepys  to  beg  of  his  Majesty,  if 
he  might  ask  it  without  offence  .  .  . 
whether  his  late  Majesty  had  been 
reconciPd  to  ye  church  of  Rome.  .  .  . 
The  King  ingenuously  told  him  that  he 
both  was  and  died  a  Roman  Catholic  : 
...  he  bid  him  follow  him  into  his 
closet,  where  opening  a  cabinet,  he 
shew'd  him  two  papers,  containing 
about  a  quarter  of  a  sheete,  on  both 
sides  written,  in  the  late  King's  owne 
hand,  severall  arguments  opposite  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  England, 
charging  her  with  heresy,  novelty  and 
ye  fanaticism  of  other  Protestants,  the 
chief  whereof  was,  I  remember,  our 
refusing  to  acknowledge  the  primacy 
and  infallibility  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
.  .  .  how  unlikely  our  Saviour  would 
leave  his  church  without  a  visible  head 
and    guide    to    resort    to,    during    his 


absence.  .  .  .  When  his  Majesty  had 
shewn  him  these  originals,  he  was 
pleas' d  to  lend  him  the  copies  of  these 
two  papers,  attested  at  the  bottome  in  4 
or  5  lines,  under  his  owne  hand. 
These  were  the  papers  I  saw  and  read. 
This  nice  and  curious  passage  I  thought 
fit  to  set  downe.  ...  I  was  heartily 
sorry  to  see  all  this,  tho'  it  was  no  other 
than  was  to  be  suspected.  .  .  .  The 
emissaries  and  instruments  of  the  Church 
of  Rome  will  never  rest  till  they  have 
crush' d  the  Church  of  England.  ...  I 
do  exceedingly  prefer  his  [present] 
Majesty's  free  and  ingenuous  profes- 
sion of  what  his  own  religion  is.   .   .   . 

May  26th,  1703. 
This  day  died  Mr.  Sam.  Pepys,  a 
very  worthy,  industrious  and  curious 
person.  .  .  .  He  lived  at  Clapham 
with  his  partner  Mr.  Hewer,  formerly 
his  clerk,  in  a  very  noble  house  and 
sweete  place,  where  he  enjoyed  the 
fruite  of  his  labours  in  greate  pros- 
perity. He  was  universally  belov'd, 
hospitable,  generous,  learned  in  many 
things,  skill' d  in  music,  a  very  greate 
cherisher  of  learned  men  of  whom 
he  had  the  conversation.  His  library 
and  collection  of  other  curiosities 
were  of  the  most  considerable,  the 
models  of  ships  especially.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Pepys  had  been  for  neere  40  years  so 
much  my  particular  friend,  that  Mr. 
Jackson  sent  me  compleat  mourning, 
desiring  me  to  be  one  to  hold  up  the 
pall  at  his  magnificent  obsequies,  but 
my  indisposition  hindered  me  from 
doing  him  this  last  office. 


158      Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth 


GROUP   XVIII. 


THE    REBELLION    OF    ARGYLE    AND    MONMOUTH,     1 685    A.D. 


i.  Letters  of  the  Duke  of  York 
(later  James  II.)  to  his  son-in-law 
William  of  Orange.  (In  Hist.  MSS. 
Commission,  Report  15,  Appendix  5, 
p.  129.) 

May  1 1,  1679. 
.  .  .  All  things  tend  towards  the 
lessning  of  the  King's  authority,  and 
the  new  moddell  things  are  put  into 
is  the  very  same  that  it  was  in  the  tyme 
of  the  Commonwealth.    .   .   . 

May  14,  Brussels. 
.  .  .  You  see  how  violently  my 
enemys  attaque  me,  and  that  Wednes- 
day last  was  the  day  that  both  Houses 
were  to  take  into  consideration  my 
affairs.  What  the  issue  on't  will  be 
I  expect  to  here  this  night,  or  to-mor- 
row, and  can  not  now  but  looke  on 
the  monarky  ist  self  (sic)  in  great 
danger  as  well  as  his  Majesty's  person, 
and  that  not  from  Papists,  but  from 
the  Commonwealth  party,  and  some 
of  those  who  were  latly  brought  into 
the  Councell  that  gouverne  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth,  and  who  make  a  prop- 
erty of  him  to  ruine  our  family,  and 
things  go  on  so  fast  and  so  violently, 
and  there  are  so  very  few  left  about 
his  Majesty  that  have  either  will  or 
courage  to  give  good  advice  to  him, 
that  I  tremble  to  think  what  will 
happen,  for  if  his  Majesty  and  the 
House  of  Lords  stick  to  me,  then  one 
may  expect  great  disorders — nay,  a 
rebellion.  If  his  Majesty  and  thay 
shall  consent  to  what  the  Commons 
may  do  against  me,  I  shall  then  look 
on  his  Majesty  as  lesse  then  a  Duke  of 
Venice,  and  the  monarky  and  our 
family  absolutely  ruin'd  and  given 
up.   .   .   . 


May  17. 
...  I  am  informed  by  my  letters 
that  nothing  will  satisfy  the  Presbite- 
rians,  but  the  destroying  of  the  mon- 
arky, and  the  setting  up  of  a  Common- 
wealth, to  which  purpose  they  flatter 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  as  the  only 
way  to  bring  to  passe  their  ends,  and 
to  destroy  our  family ;  and  he  is  so 
indiscret  as  to  give  in  to  it,  and  to 
thinke  he  can  find  his  account  in  it; 
and  as  I  told  you  in  my  last  I  appre- 
hend very  much  for  his  Majesty's  per- 
sone,  from  those  kind  of  people,  and 
I  can  hardly  see  how  he  can  almost 
gett  out  of  the  ill  condition  he  is  in.  .  .  . 

May  29,  Brussels. 
.  .  .  You  know  before  this  what 
past  on  Sonday  was  sennight  in  the 
House  of  Commons  [a  bill  to  exclude 
him  from  the  throne. — Ed.]  ;  it  was 
the  Presbiterians  and  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth's  friends  carried  it,  and  were 
most  violent  against  me,  and  now  it  is 
plain  that  these  first,  I  meane  the  Pres- 
biterians, designe  nothing  lesse  than  the 
ruine  of  the  monarky  and  our  family. 
.  .  .  His  Majesty  appears  very  reso- 
lut  for  me,  and  exclaims  as  I  can' 
desire  at  what  has  past  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  is  very  much  unsat- 
isfyed  with  the  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
and  uses  all  his  endeavors  to  hinder 
the  bill's  passing  in  the  House  of 
Commons.  I  hope  this  vote  of  theirs 
will  do  there  worke  for  them,  for 
they  that  pretend  to  lay  aside  one 
for  his  religion,  may  as  well  lay  aside 
another  for  some  fancy  or  other,  but 
I  hope  his  Majesty  will  take  courage 
and  at  last  be  a  king.   .   .   . 


'  ycun/c.f  Ojcot.     yuc  &e  < 


on  rnmctk , 

i/j   /lata re/  t/t'    ( //ar/r.r  jj  . 


Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth      159 


June  1. 

.  .  .  Unlesse  something  very  vigor- 
ous be  done  within  a  very  fewe  days, 
the  monarky  is  gone. 

June  8th. 

I  know  that  he  [Charles]  is  very 
sensible  that  if  he  parts  with  any  more 
of  his  power,  that  he  is  gone.  He  has 
yett  the  fleett,  the  garrisons,  his  gards, 
Irland  and  Scotland,  firme  to  him,  so 
that  if  he  will  yett  stand  by  himself  he 
may  yett  be  a  king.    .   .   . 

July  3rd. 

.  .  .  As  for  the  affairs  in  Scotland, 
that  rebellious  cru  that  is  up  in  arms 
will,  I  believe,  be  sone  dispersed,  they 
having  no  considerable  men  amongst 
them,  but  I  thinke  what  may  follow 
upon  the  Duke  of  Monmouth's  going 
downe  thether  may  be  of  ill  conse- 
quence.  .   .   . 

July  6th. 

...  I  am  not  all  of  your  mind  as 
to  what  concerns  the  meetting  of  the 
Parliament,  for  I  can  hope  for  no  good 
from  it,  but  on  the  contrary  all  the  ill 
imaginable,  and  not  only  to  me,  but 
to  his  Majesty  and  our  whole  family, 
as  may  apeare  by  the  bill  that  was  read 
in  the  House  of  Commons  against  me, 
which  was  against  law,  and  destroys 
the  very  being  of  the  monarky,  which, 
I  thank  God,  yett  has  had  no  depend - 
ancy  on  Parliaments  nor  on  nothing 
but  God  alone,  nor  ever  can  and  be 
a  monarky ;  and  I  hope  his  Majesty 
will  be  of  this  mind  and  never  lett  this 
House  of  Commons  sitt  againe.  If  he 
does  he  is  ruined  forever. 

July  26. 
...  I  believe  you  have  heard,  as 
well  as  I,  that  his  Majesty  has  disolved 
this  Parliament  and  called  another  to 
meette  in  October.  I  am  very  glad  he 
has  done  it.  ...  I  hope  it  will  teach 
the  next  better  manners,  but  in  case 
they   should    follow   the   foottsteps    of 


that  which  is  now  broken,  I  hope  they 
will  be  served  after  the  same  manner. 
...  I  am  not  for  their  using  him  so 
insolently  as  this  last  did,  nor  for  their 
meddling  with  the  succession. 


2.  Letter  of  Monmouth  to  the  King. 
(After  the  discovery  of  the  Rye  House 
Plot.)  (In  Roberts'  Monmouth,  p. 
1570 

Nov.  15,  1683. 

You  must  allow  me,  sir,  still  to  im- 
portune you,  not  without  hopes  of  pre- 
vailing at  last  upon  your  generosity,  so 
as  it  may  get  the  better  of  your  anger 
to  me.  I  am  half  distracted,  sir,  with 
the  thoughts  of  having  offended  you, 
and  the  torment  it  gives  me  is  perhaps 
greater  than  your  forgiving  nature  would 
know  how  to  inflict  upon  the  most 
criminal  offenders.  The  character  I  lie 
under  is  too  heavy  for  me  to  bear, — even 
death  itself  would  be  a  relief  to  me 
could  I  have  it  without  the  aggravation 
of  leaving  the  world  under  your  dis- 
pleasure. I  must  therefore  throw  my- 
self upon  your  compassion,  which, 
being  a  virtue  so  agreeable  to  your 
nature,  I  hope  your  child,  sir,  will  not 
be  an  unfortunate  instance  of  your  deny- 
ing it  when  'tis-  implored.  I  confess, 
sir,  I  have  been  in  fault,  misled,  and 
insensibly  engaged  in  things  of  which 
the  consequence  was  not  enough  under- 
stood by  me ;  yet  I  can  say  I  never  had 
a  criminal  thought  towards  your  Maj- 
esty. Not  pretending  by  that  to  insist 
upon  an  absolute  justification  of  my- 
self, your  Majesty  will  consider,  that 
whilst  I  was  under  the  apprehension  of 
great  anger  and  violence  against  me,  it 
might  easily  corrupt  my  judgment,  and 
by  seeing  things  in  a  wrong  light, 
betray  me  into  very  fatal  mistakes  :  but 
now  that  I  have  had  time  to  recollect 
myself,  everything  like  a  fault  towards 
your  Majesty  appeareth  to  me  in  such  a 
reproaching,    terrifying    shape,    that  I 


160      Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth 


have  a  remorse  for  it,  which,  could  it 
be  seen,  I  assure  myself  it  would  move 
your  compassion  to  me.  I  humbly  beg, 
sir,  to  be  admitted  to  your  feet,  and  to 
be  disposed  of  as  you  direct,  not  only 
now,  but  for  the  remainder  of  my  life  : 
and  though  my  resignation  is  too  full 
to  admit  any  reserve,  your  Majesty  will 
permit  me  to  offer  to  you  whether  you 
will  let  pass  anything  as  a  penalty  upon 
me  which  may  lay  a  stain  upon  my 
innocent  children?  whether  you  will 
make  me  undergo  the  ignominy  of  a 
trial  befoi-e  you  will  give  me  your  par- 
don? and  of  what  use  or  satisfaction 
can  it  be  to  you  to  forgive  me,  and  yet 
give  me  the  cruel  punishment  of  hear- 
ing myself  arraigned  for  treason  against 
such  a  king  and  such  a  father?  .  .  . 
Neither  do  I  imagine  to  receive  your 
pardon  any  otherwise  than  by  the  inter- 
cession of  the  Duke,  whom  I  acknowl- 
edge to  have  offended,  and  am  prepared 
to  submit  myself  in  the  humblest  man- 
ner ;  and  therefore  beg  your  Majesty 
would  direct  how  I  am  to  apply  myself 
to  him.  .  .  .  Dear  sir,  be  pleased  to 
revive,  by  a  kind  answer,  the  most 
miserable,  disconsolate  creature  now 
living. 

Monmouth. 

3.  Letters  of  James,  as  Duke  of 
York,  to  the  Marquis  of  Queenbberry. 
(In  15th  Report,  8th  Appendix,  of 
Historical  Manuscripts  Commission. 
London,  1897.) 

London,  Nov.  24th,  1683. 
.  .  .  As  I  had  written  thus  far,  I 
was  called  for  to  attend  his  Majesty 
downe  to  the  Secretarys  where  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth  was  come  to  sur- 
render himself.  He  desired  to  speake 
to  his  Majesty  and  myself  alone.  He 
asked  the  King's  pardon  as  became  him, 
contest  himself  guilty  of  the  plot  in 
generall,  and  owned  all  but  the  know- 
ing of  the  designed  assasination  ;  asked 
me  pardon  also,  and  owned  his  having 


been  faulty  to  me,  and  made  all  the 
professions  man  could  make.  He  is 
now  in  the  custody  of  a  sargent  at 
arms;  and  to-morrow  morning  his 
Majesty  has  apointed  a  meetting  to  con- 
sider what  to  do  with  him.  I  have  not 
tyme  to  say  any  more. 

Dec.  1,  1683. 
You  cannot  imagin  what  a  noise  and 
fermentation  this  affaire  of  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth  has  made,  and  how  it  has 
encouraged  and  revived  the  Whiggs 
and  troubled  the  Torys ;  the  former  of 
which  according  to  their  wonted  cous- 
toume  of  lying  for  the  good  of  the 
cause,  have  done  and  do  it  most  impu- 
dently now  upon  this  subject,  and  re- 
port every  where  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth has  not  owned  the  Plot,  and  that 
what  was  in  the  Monday's  Gazette  was 
false.  What  incouragement  he  has 
given  them  to  talke  so,  I  will  not  yett 
take  upon  me  to  say,  but  by  my  next  I 
may ;  and  shall  now  only  say  I  hope 
good  use  will  be  made  of  the  extrava- 
gance of  that  rebellious  crue.  .   .   . 

Dec.  6th. 
...  I  see  you  were  all  of  you  sur- 
prised with  the  newse  of  the  Duke  of 
Monmouth  being  at  court :  at  which  I 
do  not  wonder  at,  since  here  it  had  the 
same  effect,  and  upon  it  the  Whiggs 
are  growne  very  insolent,  and  the  more 
since  they  see  he,  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth, has  not  behaved  himself  as  he 
aught,  and  not  owned  his  knowledg  of 
the  conspiracy  as  he  promised  his  Maj- 
esty to  do.  But  tho  this  has  done  some 
harme  at  first,  yett  now  that  Algernon 
Sidney  is  to  be  beheadded  tomorrow, 
and  some  other  things  will  be  done, 
they  will  not  be  so  high  ;  and  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth  will  only  have  done  him- 
selfe  harme  by  his  behavior,  and  will 
satisfy  the  world  he  has  not  deserved 
such  favor  from  the  King  as  he  has 
had.   .   .   0 


Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth      161 


Dec.  8,  16S3. 

The  Duke  of  Monmouth's  being 
banished  yesterday  the  court,  will,  I 
beleve,  be  no  lesse  surprising  to  you 
then  his  coming  to  it  was ;  and  tho 
he  has  gained  his  point  in  getting  his 
pardon  and  keeping  his  credit  with  his 
party,  yett  I  am  confident  it  will  have 
no  further  ill  effect,  and  will  have  this 
good  one,  of  taking  away  that  tender- 
nesse  which  moved  his  Majesty  to  do 
what  he  did  in  his  favor :  for  now,  he, 
the  Duke  of  Monmouth  has  satisfyed 
the  world  he  can  never  be  trusted,  and 
was  never  a  true  penitent ;  for  he  would 
not  owne  under  his  hand  what  he  sayd 
to  the  King  and  myself,  when  he  saw 
us  first,  and  told  some  of  his  dependers 
that  what  had  been  put  in  the  Gazette 
was  not  true ;  which  so  incensed  the 
King  as  obliged  him  to  send  him  out  of 
court.  But  of  this  no  more  at  present. 
Yesterday  Algernon  Sidney  was  be- 
headed ;  he  died  stoutly  and  like  a  true 
republican.  I  have  not  time  to  say 
more. 

Dec.  20. 

.  .  .  Algernon  Sidney's  speech  is 
come  out  in  print,  and  his  tryal  will  I 
beleve  be  out  this  weeke ;  by  both 
which  you  will  see  what  a  fine  prince- 
peld  man  he  was,  and  of  the  same 
trampe  are  all  those  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth was  to  have  headed ;  and  I 
thinke,  'twas  a  great  mercy  he  discov- 
ered himself  so  sone  not  to  be  a  true 
penitent.   .   .   . 


4.  Extracts  from  Reresby's  Memoirs, 
p.  92. 

1685.  Feb.  9. 

I  [as  governor  of  York]  ordered  the 
mail  to  be  brought  unopened  to  my 
house,  so  that  no  letters  could  be  dis- 
persed till  I  knew  the  true  state  of  the 
King.  The  letters  came  not  in  till  four 
in  the  morning,  and  then  they  gave  me 
an  account  of    my  gracious    and  great 


master's  departure  out  of  this  world 
upon  the  7th,  at  night.  I  was  up  ex- 
pecting the  post  when  it  arrived  and 
suffered  no  letters  to  go  out  till  I  had 
been  with  the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  high 
sheriff,  and  had  delivered  their  letters 
only  to  themselves,  by  which  they  had 
order,  and  myself  also,  from  the  Privy 
Council  and  the  Secretary  of  State,  to 
proceed  immediately  to  proclaim  the 
King,  James  the  Second.  So  soon  as 
we  had  prepared  all  things  necessary 
for  this  ceremony,  which  was  done 
before  day,  I  gave  leave  for  the  dis- 
persing of  the  several  letters  according 
to  their  directions.   .   .   . 

It  was  a  strange  effect  of  power  from 
above,  that  so  strong  a  party  as  had  not 
long  before  appeared  in  Parliament  to 
exclude  the  Duke  of  York  from  the 
crown  of  his  ancestors  should  submit  to 
his  now  coming  to  it  with  so  great 
deference.  .  .  .  That  which  in  a  great 
measure  did  quiet  the  minds  and  appre- 
hensions of  the  people  was  the  declara- 
tion made  by  King  James  to  the  Privy 
Council  immediately  after  the  breath 
was  out  of  the  body  of  his  brother,  that 
he  would  defend  the  government  of 
England,  both  in  Church  and  State,  as 
by  law  established,  that  he  would  fol- 
low the  steps  of  the  late  King  in  kind- 
ness and  lenity  towards  his  people  ;  and 
that  as  he  would  defend  the  just  rights 
and  prerogatives  of  the  crown,  so  he 
would  invade  no  man's  property. 


5.  A  letter,  writer  unknown,  to 
the  Rev.  Francis  Roper.  (In  Ellis, 
Original  Letters.  First  Series,  Vol. 
HI.  p.  333-) 

.  .  .  About  4  o'clock  King  James 
was  proclaimed  with  the  usual  solem- 
nity and  with  great  acclamations, 
together  with  a  decent  concern  for  the 
loss  of  so  good  a  Prince.  All  things 
were  managed  with  great  order  and 
quiett;   and   his  Maj'tie,   at    night,    in 


1 62      Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth 


Council,  made  a  very  gracious  decla- 
ration (which,  I  suppose,  will  be  in 
print)  wherein  he  promis'd  solemnly 
to  tread  exactly  in  his  brother's  steps, 
both  as  to  money  and  to  governing  ac- 
cording to  law ;  and  particularly  that 
he  would  maintain  the  Church  as  now 
by  law  establish' d.  The  same  deck- 
ration  he  made  to  my  Lord  in  private, 
with  solemn  protestations  :  and  'tis  his 
constant  discourse,  that  he  will  not  in 
the  least  disturb  the  established  govern- 
ment of  the  Church,  either  by  tolera- 
tion, or  any  other  way  whatever. 

This  day  the  Archbishop  and  Bishops 
waited  on  his  Majestie  and  desired  pri- 
vate audience ;  and  in  the  Closett  the 
Archbishop  made  a  very  eloquent 
speech,  by  way  of  thanks,  in  the  name 
of  the  whole  Clergy,  for  the  last  night's 
declaration,  as  what  prevented  what 
otherwise  they  must  have  made  their 
earnest  prayer  and  suit  to  him,  to  pat- 
ronize the  Church,  as  his  royall  brother 
of  blessed  memory  had  all  along  done  : 
giving  him  all  assurances  of  loyalty  in 
the  Clergy  as  what  he  might  depend 
upon,  as  it  is  both  the  doctrine  and 
practice  of  our  Church,  beyond  any 
Church  in  the  World.  His  Majestie 
again  repeated  what  he  had  before  de- 
clar'd,  and  said  moreover,  he  would 
never  give  any  sort  of  countenance  to 
Dissenters,  knowing  that  it  must  needs 
be  faction  and  not  religion,  if  men 
could  not  bee  content  to  meet  five  be- 
sides their  own  familie,  which  the  Law 
dispenses  with. 

Thus  to  make  amends  for  our  great 
loss,  wee  are  much  comforted  with  the 
hopes  we  have  of  our  Church  continu- 
ing in  its  former  flourishing  estate. 
His  Majestie  has  never  yet  been  known 
to  bee  worse  than  his  word;  and  'tis 
to  be  hop'd  he  will  not  bee,  in  so  often 
repeated  promises.     God  continue  him 


in  his  good  resolutions,  and  make  us 
all  live  peaceably  and  happily  under 
him,  and  that  his  reign  may  bee  al- 
wayes  answerable  to  this  auspicious 
beginning.     I  am 

Sir,  your  .   .   . 

Extract  from  Fountainhall. 

On  the  23  of  Aprill,  being  St 
George's  day,  the  King  and  Quean 
ware  crouned  at  Westminster.  .  .  . 
Their  ware  scattered  amongst  the  pee- 
ple  about  500/.  stei ling's  worth  of 
coronation  medalls,  made  of  purpose, 
with  sundry  emblems,  one  of  ane  eagle 
trying  hir  young  ones  by  the  sun  etc. 
It  is  very  far  short  of  the  splendor  of 
his  Brother's  coronation  in  1660.  .  .  . 
It  is  like  it  was  to  shun  expence  to 
himselfe  and  the  nobility,  whose  for- 
tunes are  low.  .  .  .  By  ane  act,  the 
King  declared  that  the  Quean,  on  hir 
coronation  day,  would  release  all  pris- 
oners for  debts  within  £5  sterling,  by 
paying  them,  wheirby  80  were  liberat 
in  Newgate.  Shee  was  not  crouned 
with  the  imperiall  croun  of  the  king- 
dome  of  England,  but  by  a  golden 
croun,  made  of  purpose,  worth  300000/. 
sterling ;  the  Jewells  shee  had  on  hir 
ware  reckoned  worth  a  million,  which 
made  her  shine  like  ane  angell.  All 
the  peeresses  ware  richly  attired,  and 
with  ther  coronets  on  their  heads.   .   .   . 

At  the  coronation,  the  Te  Deum  and 
Veni  Creator  were  sung.  .  .  .  Among 
other  verses  made  on  this  coronation 
Elcana  Setle,  once  the  Whigs'  poet, 
now  fallen  of,  made  a  heroick  poem, 
wher  he  brings  in  Shaftsburry,  Essex, 
and  Russell,  (whom  he  calls  G.  Bur- 
net's reforming  pupill,)  gnashing  their 
teeth  and  shaking  their  snakes  in  hell, 
at  the  news  of  the  Duke  of  York' s  cor- 
onation as  king,  and  calls  Monmouth 
that  skulking,  litle,  wou'd-be-king.  .   .  , 


Rebellion  of  Argyle  and   Monmouth      163 


6.  Extract  from  Bishop  Burnet's 
History  of  his  own  Times.  (Oxford, 
1S52,  p.  24.) 

I  must  now  say  something  concern- 
ing myself.  At  this  time  [accession  of 
James  II.  1685]  I  went  out  of  England. 
Upon  King  Charles's  death,  I  had 
desired  leave  to  come  and  pay  my  duty 
to  the  King  by  the 'marquis  of  Halifax. 
The  King  would  not  see  me.  So, 
since  I  was  at  that  time  in  no  sort  of 
employment,  not  so  much  as  allowed 
to  preach  anywhere,  I  resolved  to  go 
abroad.  .  .  .  The  King  approved  of 
this,  and  consented  to  my  going :  but 
still  refused  to  see  me.  So  I  was  to  go 
beyond  sea,  as  to  a  voluntary  exile. 
This  gave  me  great  credit  with  all  the 
malecontents :  and  1  made  the  best  use 
of  it  I  could.  .  .  .  Fletcher,  a  Scotch 
gentleman  of  great  parts,  and  many 
virtues,  but  a  most  violent  republican, 
and  extravagantly  passionate,  did  not 
like  Argile's  scheme  [for  raising  a  re- 
bellion in  Scotland]  :  so  he  resolved  to 
run  fortunes  with  the  duke  of  Mon- 
mouth. He  told  me,  that  all  the 
English  among  them  were  still  press- 
ing the  duke  of  Monmouth  to  venture. 
They  said,  all  the  west  of  England 
would  come  about  him,  as  soon  as  he 
appeared,  as  they  had  done  five  or  six 
years  ago.  .  .  .  This  appeared  a  mad 
and  desperate  undertaking  to  the  duke 
of  Monmouth  himself.  He  knew  what 
a  weak  body  a  rabble  was,  and  how 
unable  to  deal  with  troops  long  trained. 
Fletcher  .  .  .  said  to  me,  that  the 
duke  of  Monmouth  was  pushed  on  to 
it  against  his  own  sense  and  reason  : 
but  he  could  not  refuse  to  hazard  his 
person,  when  others  were  so  forward. 
Lord  Grey  said,  that  Henry  the  seventh 
landed  with  a  smaller  number,  and  suc- 
ceeded. Fletcher  answered,  he  was 
sure  of  several  of  the  nobility,  who 
were  little  princes  in  those  days.   .   .   . 

The  night  I  left  London,  the  Earl  of 


Arran  came  to  me,  and  told  me,  the 
King  had  an  advertisement  of  it  [Mon- 
mouth's plot]  that  very  day.  I  saw  it 
was  fit  for  me  to  make  haste :  other- 
wise I  should  have  been  seized  on,  if  it 
had  been  only  to  put  the  affront  on  me, 
of  being  suspected  of  holding  corres- 
pondence with  traitors. 

Argile  had  a  very  prosperous  voyage. 
...  At  his  landing  he  found,  that  the 
early  notice  the  council  had  of  his 
designs  had  spoiled  his  whole  scheme. 
.  .  .  Yet  he  got  above  2500  men  to 
come  to  him.  .  .  .  But  he  lingered  too 
long,  hoping  still  to  have  brought  more 
of  his  Highlanders  together.  .  .  .  He 
had  left  his  arms  in  a  castle,  with  such 
a  guard  as  he  could  spare ;  but  they 
were  routed  by  a  party  of  the  King's 
forces.  And  with  this  he  lost  both 
heart  and  hope.  .  .  .  He  died  pitied 
by  all.  His  death  being  pursuant  to 
the  sentence  passed  three  years  be- 
fore, was  looked  on  as  no  better  than 
murder. 


7.  Extract  from  Fountainhall's  Me- 
moirs.     (Edinburgh,  1837,  p.  185.) 

Argile  was  brought  from  Glasgow  to 
Edinburgh,  prisoner,  on  the  20th  of 
June.  ...  At  first  our  rulers  ware  so 
irritate,  that  they  resolved  to  put  all  the 
marks  of  contumely  on  him  they  could  ; 
such  as,  a  cart  was  provided  at  the 
Watergate,  with  a  chair  in  it  to  bind 
him  on,  and  so  hurdle  him  up  the  way, 
the  hangman  leading  him,  or  else  to  set 
him  on  a  coall  horse,  also  ready  ther ; 
for  it  was  reported  that  in  1650,  when 
the  Marquis  of  Montrose  was  brought 
up  prisoner  from  the  Watergate  in  a 
cai-t,  this  Argile  was  feeding  his  eyes 
with  the  sight  in  the  Lady  Murrayes 
balcony,  in  the  Canongate,  with  his 
daughter,  his  lady,  to  whom  he  was 
new  married,  and  that  he  was  seen 
playing  and  smiling  with  her.   .    .   . 


164      Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth 


The  dulnesse  and  sillinesse  of  the 
manner  of  his  taking  is  very  od  ;  Provi- 
dence confounding  our  common  opinion 
of  things :  every  one  reputed  Argile 
waliant  and  witty,  and  Sir  John  Coch- 
rane neither,  and  yet  Argile  sneaks 
away  from  the  hazard,  and  Sir  John 
fights  stoutly  like  a  man ;  only,  the 
greatest  coward  when  straitned  (like  a 
cat  pershued  in  a  cupboard)  will  fight 
desperately  enough.   .   .   . 

But  this  was  yet  more  surprising  and 
unprobable  [than  the  case  of  Pyrrhus, 
which  he  has  cited  at  some  length] 
that  the  generall  of  ane  army  should  be 
apprehended  by  country  peeple,  he 
stragling  and  stealing  away  before  the 
fight ;  and  every  on  thought  him  so  gal- 
lant and  generous  that,  rather  than  be 
so  tane  and  brought  to  a  scaffold,  he 
would  much  more  choise  to  fight  and  to 
be  killed  on  the  field,  as  Rumbold 
answered,  when  he  was  bid  render 
himselfe  "  That  he  came  there  to  fight 
for  death,  not  for  life."  Argile  had 
miserably  deceaved  both  himselfe  and 
those  he  had  persuaded  to  joyne  with 
him :  for,  1 .  The  kingdome  was  not 
disposed  to  ryse  so  numerously  as  he 
expected ;  2.  Monmouth,  partly  throw 
sicknesse,  and  partly  by  unreadinesse, 
(tho  it  was  concerted  and  agreed  betuen 
them  in  Holland,  that  he  should  follow 
him,  so  that  both  their  invasions  should 
be  at  once,)  was  so  long  of  landing  in 
England.   .   .   . 

O  the  ludibrium  of  humane  fortune  ! 
Argile  in  pomp  and  glory  carried  our 
imperiall  croun  before  this  King  when 
Duke  of  York  in  his  Parliament  1681  ; 
and  now,  in  4  years  tyme,  he  is  igno- 
miniously  led  up  that  same  very  street 
by  the  hangman. 

It  was  long  debated  at  Privy  Coun- 
sell,  whither  he  should  be  hanged  or 
headed,  and  the  last  carried  it.  .  .  . 
Our  old  Scots  way  of  quartering,  was 


only  the  cutting  of  the  legs  and  the 
armes,  (as  was  done  with  the  great 
Montrose,)  but  did  not  divide  the  body, 
which  severe  practise  we  have  only  of 
late,  since  Rathilet's  case,  borrowed 
from  the  customes  of  England,  whom 
we  doe  not  imitate  in  manie  better 
things.   .   .   . 

And  thus  was  Argile  headed  on  the 
30  of  June  1685,  as  his  father  had  been 
in  1 66 1.  He  had  all  the  civility  imag- 
inable put  upon  him  ;  he  was  allowed 
8  freinds  to  be  in  mourning  with  him 
on  the  scaffold,  ...  he  came  in  coach 
to  the  toune  Counsell,  and  from  that 
on  foot  to  the  scaffold  with  his  hat  on. 
.  .  .  He  was  somewhat  appaled  at  the 
sight  of  the  Maiden  [the  block?], 
(present  death  will  danton  the  most 
resolute  courage,)  therfor  he  caused 
bind  the  napkin  upon  his  face  ere  he 
approached,  and  then  was  led  to  it. 
His  body,  after  the  separation  of  his 
head,  by  the  great  commotion  and  agi- 
tation of  the  animall  and  vitall  spirits, 
started  upright  to  his  feet  till  it  was 
held  doune,  and  the  blood  from  the 
jugular  weins  of  the  neck  sprung  most 
briskly  like  a  cascade  or  jette  d'eau. 
Thus  fell  that  tall  and  mighty  cedar  in 
our  Lebanon,  the  last  of  ane  ancient 
and  honorable  family. 

Burnet. 

...  As  soon  as  lord  Argile  sailed 
for  Scotland  he  [Monmouth]  set  about 
his  design  with  as  much  haste  as  was 
possible.  Arms  were  brought,  and  a 
ship  was  freighted  for  Bilbao  in  Spain. 
The  Duke  of  Monmouth  pawned  all 
his  jewels :  but  these  could  not  raise 
much :  and  no  money  was  sent  him  out 
of  England.  So  he  was  hurried  into 
an  ill  designed  invasion.  The  whole 
company  consisted  but  of  eighty- two 
persons.  They  were  all  faithful  to  one 
another.   .   .   . 


Rebellion  of  Argyle  and   Monmouth      165 


8.  Letter  of  the  Mayor  of  Lyme  to 
James  II.  (In  Roberts'  Monmouth, 
Vol.  I.  p.  257.) 


Honiton. 


nth  June,  16S5, 
1 2  at  night, 


May  it  please  your  sacred  Majesty  : 
This  evening,  between  seven  and  eight 
of  the  clock,  there  came  in  a  great  ship 
into  the  road  of  Lyme,  not  showing 
any  colours;  the  off-side  of  the  ship 
unseen  by  us  on  the  shore  :  she  filled 
five  great  boats  full  of  men,  which  they 
speeded  behind  the  Cobb,  and  so  landed 
them  to  the  westward  of  the  town  :  they 
went  over  the  cliffs,  and  presently  were 
in  the  town  at  least  300  men,  the  Duke 
of  Monmouth  at  the  head  of  them,  so 
that  they  became  masters  of  the  town. 
I  presently,  well  knowing  that  I  should 
be  first  seized,  took  my  horse,  and  came 
with  speed  to  this  town,  and  gave  notice 
to  all  the  country  as  I  came ;  and  sent 
my  servants,  that  notice  should  be  given 
to  Somerset  and  Dorsetshires ;  and  I 
hope  to  be  at  Exeter,  to  give  an  account 
of  it  to  the  Duke  of  Albemarle  within 
two  hours. 

With  the  great  ship,  there  is  a  ketch 
of  about  one  hundred  tons,  and  a  fly- 
boat,  which  I  judge  to  be  about  two 
hundred  tons:  neither  of  them  had 
landed  any  men  when  I  came  thence ; 
but  we  suppose  them  to  be  full  of 
men. 

I  find  this  place,  and  all  the  country, 
to  be  very  ready  to  betake  themselves  to 
their  arms  against  the  rebels.  In  the 
morning  at  Chideocke,  in  our  bay,  they 
landed  two  men  ;  which  I,  understand- 
ing, sent  by  all  ways  to  apprehend 
them.  Whether  they  are  taken,  I 
know  not :  so  I  humbly  beseech  your 
Majesty  to  pardon  this  distracted  rela- 
tion, not  doubting  but  they  have  plun- 
dered me. 

I  am,  your  Majesty's  most  humble 
and  obedient  servant  and  subject. 


Burnet. 

The  alarm  was  brought  hot  to  Lon- 
don :  where  upon  the  general  report 
and  belief  of  the  thing,  an  act  of  at- 
tainder passed  both  houses  in  one  day  ; 
some  small  opposition  being  ma'de  by 
the  Earl  of  Anglesey,  because  the  evi- 
dence did  not  seem  clear  enough  for  so 
severe  a  sentence,  which  was  grounded 
on  the  notoriety  of  the  thing.  The  sum 
of  5,000/  was  set  on  his  head.  .  .  . 
The  Duke  of  Monmouth's  manifesto 
was  long,  and  ill  penned  :  full  of  much 
black  and  dull  malice.  It  was  plainly 
Ferguson's  style,  which  was  both  tedi- 
ous and  fulsome. 


9.  Monmouth's  Declaration.  (In 
Roberts's  Monmouth.  London,  1844. 
Vol.  L,  p.  235.) 

.  .  .  We  are  particularly  compelled 
to  say,  that  all  the  boundaries  of  the 
Government  have  of  late  been  broken, 
and  nothing  left  unattempted,  for  turn- 
ing our  limited  monarchy  into  an  abso- 
lute tyranny.  .  .  .  Our  religion  hath 
been  all  along  undermined  by  Popish 
councils,  and  our  privileges  ravished 
from  us  by  fraud  and  violence.  And 
more  especially,  the  whole  course  and 
series  of  the  life  of  the  present  usurper 
hath  been  but  one  continued  conspiracy 
against  the  reformed  religion,  and  rights 
of  the  nation.  For  whosoever  consid- 
ers his  contriving  the  burning  of  Lon- 
don ;  his  instigating  a  confederacy  with 
France  and  a  war  with  Holland  ;  his 
fomenting  the  Popish  Plot,  and  encour- 
aging the  murther  of  Sir  Ed.  Godfrey 
to  stifle  it ;  his  forging  treason  against 
protestants,  and  suborning  witnesses  to 
swear  the  patriots  of  our  religion  and 
liberties  out  of  their  lives ;  his  hiring 
execrable  villains  to  assassinate  the  late 
Earl  of  Essex,  and  causing  several 
others  to  be  clandestinely  cut  off,  in 
hopes  to  conceal  it;    his  advising  and 


1 66      Rebellion  of  Argyle  and   Monmouth 


procuring  the  prorogation  and  dissolu- 
tion of  parliaments,  in  order  to  prevent 
inquiry  into  his  crimes,  and  that  he 
might  escape  the  justice  of  the  nation  : 
such  can  imagine  nothing  so  black  and 
horrid  in  itsself,  or  so  ruinous  and  de- 
structive to  religion  and  the  kingdom 
which  we  may  not  expect  from  him, 
upon  his  having  invaded  the  throne, 
and  usurped  the  title  of  a  king.   .   .   . 

Unless  we  could  be  willing  to  be 
slaves  as  well  as  papists  .  .  .  and 
withal  be  unmindful  of  our  duty  to 
God,  our  country  and  posterity,  deaf  to 
the  cries  and  groans  of  our  oppressed 
friends,  and  be  satisfied  not  only  to  see 
them  and  ourselves  imprisoned,  robbed 
and  murthered,  but  the  Protestant  in- 
terest throughout  the  whole  world  be- 
trayed to  France  and  Rome,  we  are 
bound  as  men  and  Christians  ...  to 
betake  ourselves  to  arms.  .  .  .  Now 
therefore  we  do  solemnly  declare  and 
proclaim  war  against  James  Duke  of 
York,  as  a  murderer  and  an  assassin  of 
innocent  men  ;  a  Popish  usurper  of  the 
crown,  traitor  to  the  nation  and  tyrant 
over  the  people.   .   .   . 

And  whereas  the  said  James  Duke 
of  York,  in  order  to  the  expediting  the 
idolatrous  and  bloody  designs  of  the 
Papists,  the  gratifying  his  own  bound- 
less ambition  after  a  crown,  and  to  hin- 
der inquiry  into  his  assassination  of 
Arthur  Earl  of  Essex,  hath  poisoned 
the  late  King,  and  therein  manifested 
his  ingratitude,  as  well  as  cruelty  to  the 
world,  in  murdering  a  brother,  who 
had  almost  ruined  himself  to  preserve 
and  protect  him  from  punishment :  we 
do  therefore  further  declare,  that  for 
the  aforesaid  villanous  and  unnatural 
crime,  and  other  his  crimes  before 
mentioned,  and  in  pursuance  of  the 
resolution  of  both  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment, who  voted  to  revenge  the  King's 
death  in  case  he  came  to  an  untimely 
end,  we  will  prosecute  the  said  James 


Duke  of  York  till  we  have  brought  him 
to  suffer  what  the  law  adjudged  to  be 
the  punishment  of  so  execrable  a  fact. 
And  in  a  more  particular  manner,  his 
Grace  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  being 
deeply  sensible  of  that  barbarous  and 
horrid  parricide  committed  upon  his 
father,  doth  resolve  to  pursue  the  said 
James  Duke  of  York  as  a  mortal  and 
bloody  enemy.   .   .   . 

And  forasmuch  as  the  said  James 
Duke  of  Monmouth,  the  now  head  and 
Captain  General  of  the  Protestant  forces 
of  this  Kingdom  .  .  .  hath  been,  and 
still  is  believed,  to  have  a  legitimate 
and  legal  right  to  the  crowns  of  Eng- 
land, Scotland,  France  and  Ireland 
.  .  .  the  said  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
from  the  generousness  of  his  own  na- 
ture and  the  love  he  bears  to  these  na- 
tions .  .  .  doth  not  at  present  insist 
upon  his  title,  but  leaves  the  determina- 
tion thereof  to  the  wisdom,  justice  and 
authority  of  a  Parliament.  ".   .   . 

Our  dependence  and  trust  is  upon  the 
Lord  of  Hosts,  in  whose  name  we  go 
forth,  and  to  whom  we  commit  our 
cause,  and  refer  the  decision  betwixt  us 
and  our  enemies  in  the  day  of  battle. 
Now  let  us  play  the  men  for  our  peo- 
ple, and  for  the  cities  of  our  God  ;  and 
the  Lord  do  that  which  seemeth  good 
unto  him. 


10  Correspondence  of  Monmouth  and 
Albemarle.  (In  Roberts,  Vol.  I.  p. 
326.     Also  in  Ellis.) 

To  our  trusty  and  well-beloved  Cousin 
and     Councillor,      Christopher 
Lord  Duke  of  Albemarle. 
My  Lord  :  Whereas  we  are  credibly 
informed  that  there  are  some  horse  and 
foot  in  arms  under  your  command  for 
James  Duke  of  York,  which  are  pur- 
posely raised  in  opposition  to  us  and 
our  royal  authority ;   we  thought  fit  to 
signify  to  you  our  resentment  thereof, 
and  do  promise  ourself  that  what  you 


Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth       167 


have  transacted  therein  was  through  in- 
advertency and  mistake  ;  and  that  your 
Grace  will  take  other  means,  when  you 
have  received  information  of  our  being 
proclaimed  King,  to  succeed  our  royal 
father,  lately  deceased.  We  have 
therefore  sent  this  messenger  on  pur- 
pose to  intimate  the  same  unto  you ; 
and  it  is  our  royal  will  and  pleasure, 
and  we  do  hereby  strictly  charge  and 
command  you,  upon  notice  and  receipt 
thereof,  to  cease  all  hostility,  and  force, 
and  arms  against  us  and  all  our  loving 
subjects ;  and  that  your  Grace  would 
immediately  repair  to  our  camp,  where 
you  shall  not  fail  of  a  very  kind  recep- 
tion by  us ;  or,  in  default  of  the  prem- 
ises, we  shall  be  obliged  to  proclaim 
you,  and  all  those  in  arms  under  your 
command,  rebels  and  traitors,  and  shall 
proceed  against  you  accordingly.  Yet 
we  assure  ourself  that  your  Grace  will 
pay  ready  obedience  to  our  command  ; 
wherefore  we  bid  you  hearty  farewell. 
James  R. 

For  James   Scott,  late  Duke  of 
Monmouth. 

I  received  your  letter,  and  do  not 
doubt  but  you  would  use  me  kindly  if 
you  had  me  ;  and  since  you  have  given 
yourself  the  trouble  of  invitation,  this 
is  to  let  you  know  that  I  never  was, 
nor  never  will  be,  a  rebel  to  my  lawful 
King,  who  is  James  the  Second.  If 
you  think  I  am  in  the  wrong,  and  you 
in  the  right,  whenever  we  meet  I  do 
not  doubt  but  the  justness  of  my  cause 
shall  sufficiently  convince  you  that  you 
had  better  have  lett  this  rebellion  alone, 
and  not  have  put  the  nation  to  so  much 
trouble. 

Albemarle. 


1 1 .  Extract  from  Burnet. 

Upon  the  duke  of  Monmouth's  land- 
ing, many  of  the  country  people  came 
in    to   join    him,  but   very   few  of   the 


gentry.  He  had  quickly  men  enough 
about  him  to  use  all  his  arms.  The 
duke  of  Albemarle,  as  lord  lieutenant 
of  Devonshire,  was  sent  down  to  raise 
the  militia,  and  with  them  to  make  head 
against  him.  But  their  ill  affection  ap- 
peared very  evidently  :  many  deserted, 
and  all  were  cold  in  the  service.  The 
duke  of  Monmouth  had  the  whole 
country  open  to  him  for  almost  a  fort- 
night, during  which  time  he  was  very 
diligent  in  training  and  animating  his 
men.  His  own  behaviour  was  so 
gentle  and  obliging,  that  he  was  master 
of  all  their  hearts,  as  much  as  was  pos- 
sible. But  he  quickly  found,  what  it 
was  to  be  at  the  head  of  undisciplined 
men,  that  knew  nothing  of  war,  and  that 
were  not  to  be  used  with  rigour.  .  .  . 
The  duke  of  Monmouth's  great  error 
was,  that  he  did  not  in  the  first  heat 
venture  on  some  hardy  action,  and  then 
march  either  to  Exeter  or  Bristol ; 
where,  as  he  would  have  found  much 
wealth,  so  would  he  have  gained  some 
reputation  by  it.  But  he  lingered  in 
exercising  his  men,  and  stayed  too  long 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Lime. 

By  this  means  the  King  had  time 
both  to  bring  troops  out  of  Scotland, 
after  Argile  was  taken,  and  to  send  to 
Holland  for  the  English  and  Scotch 
regiments  that  were  in  the  service  of 
the  States  ;  which  the  prince  [William] 
sent  over  very  readily,  and  offered  his 
own  person,  and  a  greater  force,  if  it 
was  necessary.  [The  King  was  too 
wise  to  accept. —  Old  Commentator •.] 
The  King  received  this  with  great  ex- 
pressions of  acknowledgment  and  kind- 
ness. It  was  very  visible,  that  he  was 
much  distracted  in  his  thoughts,  and 
that  what  appearance  of  courage  soever 
he  might  put  on,  he  was  inwardly  full 
of  apprehensions  and  fears.  .  .  .  He 
had  no  mind  to  be  much  obliged  to  the 
prince  of  Orange,  or  to  let  him  into  his 
counsels  or  affairs.   .   .   . 


1 68       Rebellion  of  Argyle  and   Monmouth 


The  King  could  not  choose  worse 
than  he  did  when  he  gave  the  command 
to  the  Earl  of  Feversham.  .  .  .  Mon- 
mouth had  almost  surprised  lord  Fever- 
sham,  and  all  about  him,  while  they 
were  a-bed.  He  got  in  between  two 
bodies,  into  which  the  army  lay  divided. 
He  now  saw  his  error  in  lingering  so 
long.  He  began  to  want  bread,  and  to 
be  so  straitened,  that  there  was  a  neces- 
sity of  pushing  for  a  speedy  decision. 
He  was  so  misled  in  his  march,  that  he 
lost  an  hour's  time  :  and  when  he  came 
near  the  army,  there  was  an  inconsider- 
able ditch,  in  the  passing  which  he  lost 
so  much  more  time,  that  the  officers  had 
leisure  to  rise  and  be  dressed,  now  they 
had  the  alarm  and  they  put  themselves 
in  order.  Yet  the  duke  of  Monmouth's 
foot  stood  longer  and  fought  better  than 
could  have  been  expected  :  especially, 
when  the  small  body  of  horse  they  had, 
ran  upon  the  first  charge,  the  blame  of 
which  was  cast  on  the  Lord  Grey.  The 
foot  being  thus  forsaken  and  galled  by 
the  cannon,  did  run  at  last.  About  a 
thousand  of  them  were  killed  on  the 
spot:  and  1500  were  taken  prisoners. 
Their  numbers  when  fullest,  were 
between  five  and  six  thousand.  The 
duke  of  Monmouth  left  the  field  too 
soon  for  a  man  of  courage,  who  had 
such  high  pretensions :  for  a  few  days 
before  he  had  suffered  himself  to  be 
called  king,  which  did  him  no  service, 
even  among  those  that  followed  him. 
He  rode  towards  Dorsetshire :  and 
when  his  horse  could  carry  him  no 
further,  he  changed  clothes  with  a 
shepherd,  and  went  as  far  as  his  legs 
could  carry  him,  being  accompanied 
only  with  a  German,  whom  he  had 
brought  over  with  him.  At  last,  when 
he  could  go  no  further,  he  lay  down  in 
a  field  where  there  was  hay  and  straw, 
with  which  they  covered  themselves, 
so  that  they  hoped  to  lie  there  unseen 
till   night.       Parties   went   out   on    all 


hands  to  take  prisoners.  The  shepherd 
was  found  by  the  lord  Lumley,  in  the 
duke  of  Monmouth's  clothes.  So  this 
put  them  on  his  track,  and  having  some 
dogs  with  them  they  followed  the  scent, 
and  came  to  the  place  where  the  Ger- 
man was  first  discovered.  And  he  im- 
mediately pointed  to  the  place  where 
the  duke  of  Monmouth  lay.  So  he  was 
taken.  .  .  .  His  body  was  quite  sunk 
with  fatigue  :  and  his  mind  was  now 
so  low,  that  he  begged  his  life  in  a 
manner  that  agreed  ill  with  the  courage 
of  the  former  parts  of  it.  He  called 
for  pen,  ink,  and  paper ;  and  wrote  to 
the  earl  of  Feversham,  and  both  to  the 
queen,  and  the  queen  dowager,  to  inter- 
cede with  the  King  for  his  life.  The 
King's  temper,  as  well  as  his  interest, 
made  it  so  impossible  to  hope  for  that, 
that  it  shewed  a  great  meanness  in  him 
to  ask  it  in  such  terms  as  he  used  in  his 
letters.  He  was  carried  up  to  White- 
hall ;  where  the  King  examined  him  in 
person,  which  was  thought  very  in- 
decent, since  he  was  resolved  not  to 
pardon  him.  He  made  new  and  unbe- 
coming submissions,  and  insinuated  a 
readiness  to  change  his  religion  :  for  he 
said,  the  King  knew  what  his  first 
education  was  in  religion. 


12.  Letter  of  the  Duke  of  Monmouth 
to  James  II.      (In  Roberts,  Vol.  I.  p. 

"30 

.  .  .  The  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Orange  will  be  witness  for  me  of  the 
assurance  I  gave  them,  that  I  would 
never  stir  against  you.  But  my  mis- 
fortune was  such  as  to  meet  with  some 
horrid  people  that  made  me  believe 
things  of  your  Majesty,  and  gave  me  so 
many  false  arguments,  that  I  was  fully 
led  away  to  believe  that  it  was  a  shame 
and  a  sin  before  God  not  to  do  it.    .   .   . 

I  am  sure,  sir,  when  you  hear  me, 
you  will  be  convinced  of  the  zeal  I  have 


Rebellion  of  Argyle  and  Monmouth       169 


of  your  preservation,  and  how  heartily 
I  repent  of  what  I  have  done.  I  can 
say  no  more  to  your  Majesty  now,  being 
this  letter  must  be  seen  by  those  that 
keep  me.  Therefore,  sir,  I  shall  make 
an  end,  in  begging  of  your  Majesty  to 
believe  so  well  of  me,  that  I  would 
rather  die  a  thousand  deaths  than  ex- 
cuse anything  I  have  done,  if  I  did  not 
really  think  myself  the  most  in  wrong 
that  ever  a  man  was,  and  had  not  from 
the  bottom  of  my  heart  an  abhorrence 
for  those  that  put  me  upon  it,  and  for 
the  action  itself.  I  hope,  sir,  God 
Almighty  will  strike  your  heart  "with 
mercy  and  compassion  for  me,  as  He 
has  done  mine  with  the  abhorrence  of 
what  I  have  done.  Wherefore,  sir,  I 
hope  I  may  live  to  show  you  how  zeal- 
ous I  shall  ever  be  for  your  service : 
and  could  I  but  say  one  word  in  this 
letter,  you  would  be  convinced  of  it ; 
but  it  is  of  that  consequence  that  I  dare 
not  do  it.  Therefore,  sir,  I  do  beg  of 
you  once  more  to  let  me  speak  to  you,  for 
then  you  will  be  convinced  how  much 
I  shall  ever  be 

Your   Majesty's    most    humble    and 
dutiful 

Monmouth. 


13.  Extracts  from  the  Buccleugh 
MSS.  (In  Appendix  of  Sir  Patrick 
Hume's  Narrative.     London,  1809.) 

The  Duke  of  Monmouth  from  the 
time  of  his  being  taken  in  the  West, 
shewd  a  wonderful  concernedness  to 
save  his  life,  and  stuck  at  nothing  that 
could  secure  to  him  the  hopes  of  dooing 
it.  His  Majestie  was  the  first  person 
that  he  made  his  application  to,  by  a 
humble  and  submissive  letter :  .  .  . 
giving  the  King  to  understand  that  he 
has  such  important  matters  to  commu- 
nicate to  his  Majestie,  that  should  secure 
his  whole  nations  against  the  fears  and 
disturbances  of  rebellion  and  sedition 
ever  after ;   and  that  by  the  satisfaction 


he  imagines  this  discovery  would  give 
the  King  he  doubted  not,  but  in  some 
measure,  to  deserve  pardon  upon  this 
consideration.  He  was  admitted  to  see 
the  King  at  Mr.  Griffin's,  where,  at  his 
Majestie  appearing,  he  fell  down  on  his 
knees  and  with  much  earnestness 
begged  his  life,  and  his  Majestie's 
pardon  for  what  he  had  done.  The 
King  told  him,  of  the  latest.  The  sub- 
stance in  generall  of  what  he  told  his 
Majestie,  and  as  yet  has  come  to  my 
knowledge,  was  :  That  he  was  deceived 
and  imposed  upon  by  a  company  of 
rogues  and  villans,  that  flattered  him 
with  the  hopes  and  promises  of  achiev- 
ing of  great  matters ;  and  that  if  he 
land  once  on  English  ground  all  the 
nation  would  appear  for  him  .  .  .  that 
Fergusone  was  chiefly  the  person  that 
instigat  him  to  set  up  his  title  of  King 
and  had  been  a  main  adviser  and  con- 
triver of  the  whole  affair,  as  well  to  the 
attempting  as  acting  what  had  been 
done.    .    .    . 

That  night  he  was  carried  away  to 
the  tower. 

After  that  the  devotionarie  and  inter- 
rogatorie  pairt  had  bein  over,  he  went 
to  that  pairt  of  the  scaffold  where  the 
block  and  ax  laye.  The  axe  he  took 
into  his  hand,  and  felt  the  edge  of  it, 
saying  to  Jack  Ketch  [the  original 
Jack  Ketch. — Ed.], the  executioner,  that 
sure  the  axe  did  not  feill  as  if  it  were 
sharp  enough,  and  prayed  him  that  he 
would  doe  his  office  weill,  and  not 
serve  him  as  he  was  told  he  had  done 
the  late  Lord  Russell ;  for  if  he  gave 
him  two  stroaks,  he  would  not  promise 
him  that  he  would  lye  still  to  receive 
the  third ;  and  putting  his  hand  in  his 
pocket,  gave  him  six  guinies ;  telling 
him,  that  if  he  did  his  dutie  weel,  he 
left  six  more  in  his  servant's  hands  to  be 
given  him  after  he  was  dead,  provyding 
he  did    his   busines    handsomely.     All 


170      Rebellion  of  Argyle  and   Monmouth 


this  he  said  with  alse  much  indiffer- 
encie  and  unconcernednes  as  if  he  were 
giveing  ordours  for  a  sute  of  cloathes. 
Noe  change  nor  alteratione  of  counte- 
nance from  the  first  unto  the  last ;  but 
stript  himself  of  his  coat ;  and  haveing 
prayed,  layed  himself  downe,  and  fitted 
his  neck  to  the  block,  with  all  the  calm- 
nes  of  temper  and  composer  of  mynd 
that  ever  hath  bein  observed  in  any  that 
mounted  that  fatall  scafold  before.  He 
would  have  no  cap  to  his  head,  nor  be 
bound,  nor  have  anie  thing  on  his  feace  ; 
and  yett  for  all  this,  the  botcherly  dog, 
the  executioner,  did  soe  barbarously  act 
his  pairt,  that  he  could  not  at  fyve 
stroaks  of  the  ax,  sever  the  head  from 
the  body.  At  the  first,  which  made 
only  a  slender  dash  in  his  necke,  his 
body  heaved  up  and  his  head  turned 
about ;  the  second  stroak  he  made  only 
a  deeper  dash,   after   which   the  body 


moved;  the  third,  not  being  the  workr 
he  threw  away  the  ax,  and  said,  God 
damne  me,  I  can  doe  no  more,  my 
heart  fails  me.  The  bystanders  had 
much  adoe  to  forbear  throwing  him 
over  the  scafold ;  but  made  him  take 
the  ax  againe,  threatening  to  kill  him  if 
he  did  not  doe  his  deutie  better,  which 
tuo  stroaks  more  not  being  able  to 
finish  the  work,  he  was  fain  at  last  to 
draw  furth  his  long  knife  and  with  it  to 
cutt  of  the  remaining  pairt  of  his  neck. 
If  there  had  not  bein  a  guard  before  the 
shouldieres  to  conduct  the  executioner 
away,  the  people  would  have  torne  him 
to  pieces,  soe  great  was  their  indigna- 
tione  at  the  barbarous  usage  of  the  leat 
Duek  of  Monmouth,  receaved  at  his 
hand.  There  were  many  that  had  the 
superstitious  curiositie  of  dipping  their 
handkercheifs  in  his  blood,  and  carrey- 
ing  it  away  as  a  precious  relique. 


GROUP   XIX. 


THE    ARBITRARY    RULE    OF   JAMES    II. 


I.  Letter  of  Dr.  Hickes  to  Dr. 
Charlett.  (In  Aubrey,  Letters  by  emi- 
nent persons.     London,  1813.) 

Jan  23rd,  1710-1 1. 
Dear  Sir :  I  .  .  .  can  defer  my 
humble  thanks  no  longer  for  your  kind 
New  Years  gifts,  the  stately  Almanack 
and  the  Orationcs  ex  Poetis  Latinis, 
where  ...  I  cast  my  eyes  on  the 
Sortes   Virgilianae  of  Charles  I. 

At  Bello  Audacis  Pofiuli  vexatus,  etc. 

This  gave  me  some  melancholy  re- 
flections for  an  hour  or  two,  and  made 
me  call  to  my  mind  .  .  .  the  omens 
that  happened  at  the  coronation  of  .  .  . 
James  II.,  which  I  saw,  viz.  :  the  tottei-- 
ing  of  his  crown  upon  his  head,  the 
broken  canopy  over  it,  and  the  rent 
flag   hanging   upon    the    white     tower 


over  against  my  door  when  I  came 
home  from  the  coronation.  It  was  torn 
by  the  wind  at  the  same  time  the  signal 
was  given  to  the  tower  that  he  wa& 
crowned. 

I  put  no  gi"eat  stress  upon  omens  but 
I  cannot  despise  them  :  most  of  them  I 
believe  come  by  chance,  but  some  from 
superior  agents,  especially  those  which 
regard  the  fate  of  kings  and  nations. 


2.  Description  of  James  II.  by  an 
anonymous  Contemporary.  (In  Mac- 
pherson's  Original  Papers,  I.  589.) 

He  was  something  above  the  middle 
stature,  well-shaped,  very  nervous  and 
strong.  His  face  was  rather  long,  his 
countenance  engaging.  But  his  out- 
ward carriage  was  a  little  stiff  and  con- 


The  Arbitrary  Rule    of  James    II.        171 


strained.  He  was  not  so  gracious  as 
he  was  courteous  and  obliging.  He 
was  affable  and  of  easy  access.  He 
affected  no  formality,  though  no  one 
knew  the  ceremonial  better,  nor  was 
more  exact  in  the  observation  of  them 
when  necessary.  .  .  .  Having  some 
hesitation  in  his  speech,  his  conversa- 
tion was  not  so  graceful  as  it  was  judi- 
cious and  solid.  His  temper  was  natu- 
rally hot  and  choleric.  But,  in  his 
latter  days,  he  got  the  better  of  that ; 
and,  even  in  his  younger  days,  it  seldom 
so  much  overpowered  him,  as  to  make 
him  do  any  action  unbecoming.  .  .  . 
He  was  a  great  lover  of  walking  and 
hunting.  But  no  diversion  made  him 
neglect  business ;  to  which  he  had  so 
great  an  application,  that  it  seemed  to 
be  of  the  number  of  his  diversions.  He 
was  so  distinguishable  for  this,  that, 
during  his  younger  days,  notwithstand- 
ing the  unsettledness  of  his  condition, 
while  he  lived  in  exile,  he  had  not  only 
performed  his  duty  with  great  exact- 
ness, but  kept  an  account  of  all  occur- 
ences ;  and  he  has  obliged  posterity 
with  better  memoirs  under  his  own 
hand,  than  perhaps  any  sovereign 
prince  has  been  known  to  leave  behind 
him  before. 

He  was,  all  his  life,  a  great  enemy 
to  drinking,  gaming,  and  indeed  to  all 
diversions  which  commonly  render  men 
incapable  of  business.  .  .  .  His  affec- 
tion for  the  Queen  was  mixed  with  a 
respect  and  deference.  He  was  the 
best  father  in  the  world,  and  the  most 
unfortunate  in  some  of  his  children ; 
the  best  master,  yet  the  worst  served  : 
a  most  constant  friend,  yet  never  prince 
found  fewer  in  his  greatest  necessities. 
He  was  so  fond  of  his  children,  in  par- 
ticular, that  when  he  found  the  princess 
of  Denmark  [Anne]  had  deserted  him, 
upon  his  return  from  Salisbury,  he 
only  seemed  anxious  about  her  health 
and  fears  for  her  miscarriage. 


3.  Extracts  from  Fountainhall's  Me- 
moirs. 

1685. 

.  .  .  The  King,  the  Sunday  im- 
mediately following  his  brother's  death, 
went  openly  to  his  Quean's  popish 
chappell,  and  heard  masse,  and  de- 
clared, that  when  he  was  a  subject,  he 
had  that  respect  for  the  laws  of  Eng- 
land, that  he  would  not  break  them, 
but  now  as  King,  being  above  the  ex- 
ecutive force  of  the  law,  he  ouned 
his  religion,  which  was  judged  in- 
genuity.  .    .   . 

Our  King  hearing  how  the  French 
King  had  receaved  Churchill,  he  payes 
him  in  his  oune  coin,  and  receives 
Lorge  sitting  in  his  chair  of  state  in  the 
gallery  with  his  hat  on  ;  which  some 
French  resented,  tho  it  may  be  meer 
policy,  to  give  out  that  ther  is  a  misun- 
derstanding between  the  2  kings,  to 
please  the  English.  The  last  king  ad- 
mitted embassadors  without  any  pomp 
or  ceremony,  to  speak  him  standing  in 
his  bedchamber  with  his  hat  of. 

The  change  upon  the  face  of  the 
English  court  is  very  remarkable  :  in 
the  last  king's  tyme  mirth,  playes, 
buffoonerie,  etc.,  domineered,  and  was 
incouraged ;  now,  there  is  litle  to 
be  seen  but  seriousnesse  and  busi- 
nesse.   .   .   . 

On  the  1 8th  of  April,  being  the 
vigil  before  Easter,  the  King  washed 
52  poor  men's  feet,  according  to  the 
nuirroer  of  the  years  of  his  oune  age, 
and  he  touches  severalls  for  the  King's 
Evill.  He  emits  a  new  severe  Procla- 
mation against  duels,  and  certifies, 
whoever  intices  another,  or  brings  a 
second  with  him,  he  will  pardon  none 
of  them.  .  .  .  The  King  delivered  to 
both  Houses  his  Speach  .  .  .  where- 
in he  differs  much  from  his  broth- 
er's style,  and  signifies  his  pleasure 
in  very  peremptorie  termes,  that  it 
will  not  be  ther  best  way  to  feed  him 


/. 


172        The  Arbitrary  Rule    of   James   II 


from  tyme  to  tyme  with  supplies,  for 
that  will  not  praevaill  with  him  to 
gather  them  the  oftner  together ;  then 
he  acquaints  them  with  Argile's  rebel- 
lion in  Scotland  and  hopes  they  will 
give  him  a  suitable  supply  against  the 
same.  And  they  having  on  the  23 
of  May  signified  to  his  Majesty,  that 
by  ane  act  they  would  settle  all  the 
revenue  of  tonnage  and  poundage  [on 
his  Majesty  for  his  life-time]  .  .  . 
and  that  they  would  stand  by  him  with 
their  lives  and  fortunes  against  Argile 
and  all  other  conspirators;  he  (with- 
out giving  them  thanks,  as  his  brother 
used  to  doe,)  with  a  very  dry  comple- 
ment, tells  them,  they  could  doe  no 
lesse  in  consulting  ther  oune  security. 
And  in  his  Speach  of  the  30  of  May, 
he  craves  a  farder  supply  ;  and  to  flat- 
ter the  genius  of  the  nation,  he  tells 
them  in  a  style  wain  enough,  that  he 
hopes  to  raise  the  reputation  of  Eng- 
land beyond  what  any  of  his  praede- 
■cessors  [had  done].  .  .  .  Whereupon 
the  House  of  Commons  vote  him  a 
farder  supply.  .  .  .  Some  ascrybed 
this  complyance  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons with  the  King  more  to  fear  than 
love,  and  that  he  took  the  true  way  of 
treating  Englishmen,  in  King  Henry 
the  8th' s  minatory  forme,  that  as  he 
would  invade  no  man's  properties,  so 
he  would  quite  none  of  his  oune  rights 
and  prerogatives ;  and  that  he  began 
with  them  as  he  intended  to  end  :  for 
the  old  distich  holds  true,  Anglicagens, 
optima  Jlens,  pessima  ridens;  with 
too  much  prosperity  they  turne  unsup- 
portably  insolent,  so  that  it  is  not  safe 
to  flatter  or  cajole  them  ;  for  sundry  of 
this  house  of  Commons  are  disaffected, 
but  are  borne  doune  by  the  major  part, 
who  syde  with  the  King,  the  elections 
in  counties  and  burrows  being  so  man- 
adged,  that  by  the  limitations  of  the 
new  charters  given  them,  and  excom- 
munications and  other  methods  used  to 


debar  such  as  they  doubted,  they  got 
many  of  them  to  the  King's  oune  mind  ; 
which  was  a  point  his  late  brother 
could  never  of  late  compasse,  tho  he 
had  as  much  of  his  people's  love  as  the 
present  King  hes,  only  he  was  no  so 
much  feared  by  them.  ...  If  the 
King  had  ane  army  up,  it's  like  he 
would  not  disband  it  so  easily  as  his 
brother  did  his.   .   .   . 

The  English  Parliament  met  again 
on  the  9th  of  November,  16S5,  by  his 
Majestie's  special  call:  wher  the  King 
tells  them  that,  in  this  late  invasion 
[Monmouth's]  ther  was  a  great  discov- 
ery of  the  insufficiency  of  the  militia  to 
suppresse  risings,  which  had  moved 
him  to  double  the  standing  forces  there 
had  been  in  his  brother's  tyme  .  .  . 
and  therfor  he  hoped  they  would  grant 
him  a  suitable  supply  to  defray  it ;  and 
that  he  had  made  use  of  some  to  be 
officers  in  his  army  who  ware  not  qual- 
ified according  to  the  laws  (being  pop- 
ish) ,  but  to  deal  plainly  with  them 
he  would  nather  expose  nor  desert 
them.   .   .    . 

The  two  Houses  having  retired,  the 
Peers  ware  induced  to  thank  the  King 
for  his  Speach  ;  but  the  commons  de- 
murred on  it,  they  liked  nather  the  on 
part  of  the  Speach  nor  the  other  :  a 
standing  army  they  ware  not  for  .  .  . 
and,  as  to  Popish  officers  they  .  .  . 
would  have  them  removed  in  tyme 
coming.    .   .    . 

The  Lord  Jeffries,  ChanceKor, 
brought  in  a  bill  to  the  House  of 
Peers  for  reschinding  the  Test  made 
in  1678  against  transsubstantiation,  and 
for  allowing  the  Popish  lords  (who  are 
17  in  England)  to  come  and  sit  in  the 
House  of  Peers.  .  .  .  Upon  this  mo- 
tion of  the  Chancelor's  many  of  the 
nobility  and  bischops  got  up  and 
shewed  great  resentment  and  indigna- 
tion, clouds  of  them  speaking  at  once  ; 
and   he  reprooving  them,  as  violating 


The  Arbitrary  Rule   of  James    II.        173 


the  oi-der  and  forme  of  Parliament,  on 
told  him  they  knew  what  decency  be- 
came a  Parliament  as  weell  as  he  knew 
the  King's  Bench,  reflecting  on  his 
rise.  The  peers,  who  used  alwayes  to 
be  most  tame  and  obsequious  to  the 
Kings,  turned  very  giddy  and  discon- 
tent in  this  Parliament ;  what  had  of- 
fended and  allarumed  them  was  the 
King's  turning  the  Marquis  of  Halifax, 
Bischop  of  London,  etc.,  of  his  Privy 
Counsell.  .  .  .  What  displeased  the 
Peers  is,  i.  That  it's  the  temper  and 
genius  of  English  Parliaments  to  begin 
fair,  and  to  be  fond  and  kind  to  ther 
new  Princes,  but  ther  concord  uses  not 
to  last  long.  2.  It  was  publickly 
knowen  in  London,  that  a  Nuncio  or 
Vicar  generall  was  come  from  the  Pope 
to  the  King  at  London  .  .  .  whereas 
ther  had  not  been  such  embassies  pass- 
ing between  Rome  and  England  never 
since  the  reigne  of  Quean  Mary  thesse 
130  years. 

In  the  house  of  peers  ther  ware  od 
speaches :  ther  religion  (on  said)  was 
like  the  banks  in  Holland  which  bri- 
dled the  sea ;  once  make  a  breach  in 
them,  all  their  hands  would  not  be 
able  to  stop  the  breach  and  inundation. 
.  .  .  The  Bischop  of  London  went  to 
the  King,  and  fell  on  his  knees,  intreat- 
ing  him  to  quiet  and  secure  the  minds 
of  the  peeple,  .  .  .  and  they  say,  the 
King  turned  on  his  heel.   .   .   . 

As  for  the  commons,  the  King  can 
never  expect  to  get  a  better  constituted 
House  of  Commons.  .  .  .  They  are  all 
men  almost  pricked  doun  by  the  King 
himself  as  his  freinds,  and  ther  ar  about 
150  of  them  his  defenders  and  pension- 
ers :  so  that  it  behooved  to  be  a  veiy 
extroordinary  demand  of  the  Kings  that 
startled  them  :  and  the  truth  was,  many 
loyall  subjects  wished  he  had  not  scrued 
the  pine  so  hy  in  his  Speach,  as  he  left 
no   honourable  roume  for  a  retrait  to 


himselfe,  if  the  Parliament  should  not 
grant  his  desire.   .   .   . 

The  King  was  so  irritated  with  their 
free  discourses  on  the  iSth,  that  he  took 
resolution  that  same  night  to  prorogue 
them  ;  which  he  did  on  the  19th  in  the 
jnorning,  (which  was  knowen  to  few,) 
having  come  to  the  House  of  Peers  in 
his  robes,  and  the  croun  on  his  head, 
and  called  up  the  House  of  Commons- 
and  their  Speaker,  and  so  prorogued 
them  himselfe.  .  .  .  The  members  of 
the  English  Parliament  are  observed  to 
be  very  calme  when  out  of  Parliament, 
but  seldome  doe  they  return  better 
natured  than  when  they  parted,  but 
rather  with  7  devills.  .  .  .  The  rich 
men  in  the  city  of  London  are  very 
discontented,  and  so  renders  trade 
very  dead.   .    .   . 

The  King  was  resolved  in  this  last 
Parliament,  to  have  passed  ane  act  that 
ther  Habeas  Corpus  write  should  not 
liberate  in  treason,  that  the  King  might 
not  be  forced  to  insist  or  divulge  his 
proofs  ther,  in  cases  of  treason,  before 
he  ware  ready,  which  in  experience  he 
had  found  to  be  prejudiciall.   ... 

In  April,  1686,  my  two  servants 
being  imprisoned,  and  I  threatened 
therewith,  as  also,  that  they  would 
seize  upon  my  papers,  and  search  if 
they  contained  anything  offensive  to 
the  party  then  prevailing,  I  was  neces- 
sitated to  hide  this  Manuscript  and 
many  others,  and  intermit  my  Historick 
Remarks  till  the  Revolution  in  the  end 
of   1688. 

Reresby s  Memoirs. 

March  2nd,  1685. 

...  It  was  now  out  of  doubt  that 
the  King  was  a  Papist,  for  he  went 
publicly  to  mass ;  but  he  ordered  the 
chapel  at  Whitehall  to  be  kept  in  the 
same  order  as  formerly,  where  the 
Princess  of  Denmark  [later  Queen 
Anne]  went  daily.  The  King  repaired 
to  the  Queen's  private  chapel.   .   .   . 


174       The  Arbitrary  Rule   of  James    II 


Nov.  20th. 

.  .  .  The  Popish  party  at  this  time 
behaved  themselves  with  an  insolence 
which  did  them  a  prejudice.  The  King 
of  France  continued  to  practise  all  the 
cruelties  imaginable  towards  the  Pro- 
testants in  France  to  make  them  turn 
Papists,  commanding  that  all  extrem- 
ities should  be  used  but  death,  as  seiz- 
ing their  lands,  razing  their  temples 
and  houses,  taking  all  their  goods,  put- 
ting them  into  prisons,  quartering 
dragoons  with  them  to  eat  up  their 
estates  and  to  watch  them  that  they 
should  not  sleep  till  they  changed  their 
religion.  Many  of  them  fled  into  all 
parts  as  they  could  escape,  poor  and 
naked ;  for  their  estates  were  stopped 
and  themselves  condemned  to  the  gal- 
leys if  they  were  taken  attempting  to 
fly " 

March  i. 

.  .  .  Though  it  could  not  be  said 
that  thei-e  was  as  yet  any  remarkable 
invasion  upon  the  rights  of  the  Church 
of  England,  yet  the  King  gave  all  the 
encouragement  he  could  to  the  increase 
of  his  own,  by  putting  more  papists 
into  office,  but  especially  in  Ireland ; 
by  causing  or  allowing  popish  books  to 
be  printed  and  sold  and  cried  publicly  ; 
by  publishing  some  popish  papers 
found  in  the  late  King's  closet,  and  the 
declaration  of  his  dying  a  papist  and 
the  manner  of  it ;  .  .  .by  sending  my 
Lord  Castelmaine  upon  a  solemn  em- 
bassy to  the  Pope,  and  many  other  such 
things ;  which  made  all  men  expect 
that  more  would  follow  of  a  greater 
concern.   .   .   . 

May  13th. 

.  .  .  The  King  having  lately  got  a 
Jesuit  for  his  confessor,  went  on  faster 
than  formerly  in  promoting  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion. 


4.  Extracts  from  Burnet.  (After 
Monmouth's  Execution.) 

Thus  lived  and  died  this  unfortunate 
young  man.  He  had  several  good 
qualities  in  him,  and  some  that  were  as 
bad.  He  was  soft  and  gentle  even  to 
excess,  and  too  easy  to  those  who  had 
credit  with  him.  He  was  both  sincere 
and  good-natured,  and  understood  war 
well.  But  he  was  too  much  given  to 
pleasure  and  to  favourites.   .   .   . 

The  King  was  now  as  successful  as 
his  own  heart  could  wish.  .  .  .  And 
certainly  a  reign  that  was  now  so  be- 
yond expectation  successful  in  its  first 
six  months  seemed  so  well  settled  that 
no  ordinary  mismanagement  could  have 
spoiled  such  beginnings.  If  the  King 
had  ordered  a  speedy  execution  of  such 
persons  as  were  fit  to  be  made  public 
examples,  and  had  upon  that  granted  a 
general  indemnity  ...  it  is  not  easy 
to  imagine  with  what  advantage  he 
might  then  have  opened  and  pursued 
his  designs. 

But  his  own  temper,  and  the  fury  of 
some  of  his  ministers,  and  the  maxims 
of  his  priests  .  .  .  concurred  to  make 
him  lose  advantages  that  were  never  to 
be  recovered.  .  .  .  The  army  was  kept 
for  some  time  in  the  western  counties, 
where  both  officers  and  soldiers  lived  as 
in  an  enemy's  country,  and  treated  all 
that  were  believed  to  be  ill  affected  to 
the  King  with  great  rudeness  and 
violence. 

Kirk,  who  had  commanded  long  in 
Tangier,  was  become  so  savage  by  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Moors  there,  that 
some  days  after  the  battle,  he  ordered 
several  of  the  prisoners  to  be  hanged 
up  at  Taunton,  without  so  much  as  the 
form  of  law,  he  and  his  company  look- 
ing on  from  an  entertainment  they  were 
at.  At  every  new  health  another  pris- 
oner was  hanged  up.  And  they  were 
so  brutal,  that  observing  the  shaking  of 
the  legs  of  those  whom  they  hanged,  it 


The  Arbitrary  Rule   of  James    II.        175 


was  said  among  them,  they  were  danc- 
ing ;  and  upon  that  music  was  called 
for. 

But,  as  if  this  had  been  nothing, 
Jeffries  was  sent  the  western  circuit  to 
try  the  prisoners.  His  behaviour  was 
beyond  anything  that  was  ever  heard  of 
in  a  civilized  nation.  He  was  perpet- 
ually either  drunk  or  in  a  rage,  liker  a 
fury  than  the  zeal  of  a  judge.  He  re- 
quired the  prisoners  to  plead  guilty. 
And  in  that  case  he  gave  them  some 
hope  of  favour  if  they  gave  him  no 
trouble :  otherwise,  he  told  them,  he 
would  execute  the  letter  of  the  law  upon 
them  in  its  utmost  severity.  This  made 
many  plead  guilty  who  had  a  great  de- 
fence in  law.  But  he  shewed  no  mercy. 
He  ordered  a  great  many  to  be  hanged 
up  immediately  without  allowing  them 
a  minute's  time  to  say  their  prayers. 
He  hanged,  in  several  places,  about  six 
hundred  persons.  The  impieties  with 
which  he  treated  them  .  .  .  would 
have  amazed  one,  if  done  by  a  bashaw 
in  Turkey.  England  had  never  known 
anything  like  it. 

But  that  which  brought  all  his 
excesses  to  be  imputed  to  the  King 
himself,  and  to  the  orders  given  by 
him,  was,  that  the  King  had  a  particu- 
lar account  of  all  his  proceedings  writ 
to  him  every  day.  And  he  took  pleas- 
ure to  relate  them  in  the  drawing  room 
to  foreign  ministers,  and  at  his  table, 
calling  it  Jeffries' s  campaign  [also  in 
letters. — Ed.]  .  .  .  Dykfield  was  at  that 
time  in  England,  one  of  the  ambassa- 
dors whom  the  States  had  sent  over  to 
congratulate  the  King's  coming  to  the 
crown.  He  told  me,  that  the  King 
talked  so  often  of  these  things,  that  he 
wondered  to  see  him  break  out  into 
those  indecencies.  And  upon  Jeffries' s 
coming  back,  he  was  created  a  baron 
and  peer  of  England.      [He  was  created 


a  baron  and  peer  before.  Old  Com- 
mentator.^ .  .  .  Pen  [Sylvan  Penn] 
who  saw  the  execution  [of  old  Lady 
Lisle,  who  fell  asleep  at  her  trial]  .  .  . 
said  to  me,  the  king  was  much  to  be 
pitied,  who  was  hurried  into  all  this 
effusion  of  blood  by  Jeffries' s  impetuous 
and  cruel  temper. 


5.  Extracts  from  an  "  Impartial  Ac- 
count of  Kirk's  Cruelties  ...  by 
...  an  Eye  and  Ear  Witness."  (In 
the  work  known  as  the  Bloody  As- 
sizes, 5th  Edition.) 

When  Kirk  came  first  into  Taunton 
he  came  with  two  cartloads  of  men 
bloody,  and  their  wounds  not  drest, 
just  as  they  were  hauled  into  Bridge- 
water  Prison.  .  .  .  He  also  brought 
with  him  into  Taunton,  a  great  drove 
of  foot,  chained  two  and  two  together. 
He  hanged  19  on  the  Corn-hill  imme- 
diately. .  .  .  He  caused  their  bowels 
to  be  burnt,  and  their  quarters  to  be 
boiled  in  pitch,  and  hanged  all  about 
the  town. 

Kirk  hanged  one  on  the  White  Heart 
sign-post  three  times,  to  try  if  he  would 
own  he  had  done  amiss  ;  but  he  affirmed 
(to  this  effect)  that  if  it  was  to  do 
again,  he  would  engage  in  the  same 
cause  ;  so  Kirk  would  have  him  hang'd 
in  chains ;  and  so  he  was,  till  King 
William  came  to  the  deliverance  of  this 
nation  from  popery  and  slavery. 

When  Jenkins,  Hewlings,  etc.,  were 
to  die,  before  they  came  out,  there  was 
a  great  fire  made  on  the  Corn-hill,  that 
so  they  might  see  the  fire  that  was  to 
burn  their  bowels. 

Some  that  Kirk  caused  to  be  hanged, 
he  caused  also  their  bodies  to  be  stript, 
and  their  breasts  to  be  cleav'd  asunder ; 
in  the  place  where  he  caused  the  execu- 
tions to  be  done,  you  might  have  gone 
up  to  the  ankles  in  blood. 


176        The  Arbitrary  Rule   of  James    II 


Formula  for  Sentences  of  Judges. 

(Quoted  by  Roberts  from  "  State 
Trials.") 

You  must  every  one  of  you  be  had 
back  to  the  place  from  whence  you 
came,  from  thence  you  must  be  drawn 
to  the  place  of  execution,  and  there 
you  must  severally  be  hanged  by  the 
necks,  every  one  of  you  by  the  neck 
till  you  are  almost  dead ;  and  then 
you  must  be  cut  down,  your  entrails 
must  be  taken  out  and  biirnt  before 
your  faces ;  your  several  heads  to  be 
cut  off,  and  your  bodies  to  be  divided 
into  four  parts,  and  those  to  be  disposed 
of  at  the  pleasure  of  the  King :  and 
the  Lord  have  mercy  upon  your  souls. 


6.  Extract  from  North's  Life  of 
Guilford.  (In  Jessop's  Lives  of  the 
Norths.  London,  1890.  Vol.  I.  p. 
288.) 

"Noisy  in  nature.  Turbulent  at 
first  setting  out.  Deserter  in  difficul- 
ties. Full  of  tricks.  Helped  by  sim- 
ilar friendships.  Honesty,  law,  policy, 
alike." 

This,  to  conclude,  is  the  summary 
character  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Jeffries  and  needs  no  interpreter.  .  .  . 
I  will  subjoin  what  I  have  personally 
noted  of  the  man ;  and  some  things  of 
indubitable  report  concerning  him. 
.  .  .  His  delights  were  .  .  .  drinking, 
laughing,  singing,  kissing,  and  all  the 
extravagances  of  the  bottle.  He  had  a 
set  of  banterers  for  the  most  part,  near 
him  ;  as  in  old  time  great  men  kept  fools 
to  make  them  merry.  .  .  .  No  friend- 
ship or  dearness  could  be  so  great  in 
private  which  he  would  not  use  ill,  and 
to  an  extravagant  degree,  in  publick. 
No  one  .  .  .  was  safe  from  his  public 
contempt  and  derision.  .  .  .  When  he 
was  in  temper  and  matters  indifferent 


came  before  him,  he  became  his  seat  of 
justice  better  than  any  other  I  ever  saw 
in  his  place.  He  took  ?  pleasure  in 
mortifying  fraudulent  attorneys  and 
would  deal  forth  his  severities  with  a 
sort  of  majesty.  He  had  extraordinary 
natural  abilities.  .  .  .  He  talked  flu- 
ently and  with  spirit ;  and  his  weak- 
ness was  that  he  could  not  reprehend 
without  scolding  ;  and  in  such  Billings- 
gate language  as  should  not  come  out 
of  the  mouth  of  any  man.  He  called 
it,  "giving  a  lick  with  the  rough  side 
of  his  tongue."  It  was  ordinary  to 
hear  him  say,  "  Go,  you  are  a  filthy , 
lousy,  knitty  rascal,"  with  much  more 
of  like  elegance.  .  .  .  And  that  visage 
he  put  on  when  he  animadverted  on 
such  as  he  took  offence  at,  which  made 
him  a  terror  to  real  offenders ;  whom 
also  he  terrified,  with  his  face  and 
voice,  as  if  the  thunder  of  the  day  of 
judgement  broke  over  their  heads  :  and 
nothing  ever  made  men  tremble  like 
his  vocal  inflictions.  He  loved  to  in- 
sult and  was  bold  without  check  ;  but 
that  only  when  his  place  was  upper- 
most. .  .  .  There  was  a  scrivener  .  .  . 
[whose]  bill  was  dismissed  with  costs, 
and  he  went  his  way.  In  the  hall,  one 
of  his  friends  asked  him  how  he  came 
off?  "Came  off,"  said  he,  "I  am 
escaped  from  the  terrors  of  that  man's 
face  which  I  would  scarce  undergo 
again  to  save  my  life  ;  and  I  shall  cer- 
tainly have  the  frightful  impression  of 
it  as  long  as  I  live."  Afterwards, 
when  the  Prince  of  Orange  came,  and 
all  was  in  confusion,  this  lord  chancel- 
lor, being  very  obnoxious,  disguised 
himself  in  order  to  go  beyond  sea. 
He  was  in  a  seaman's  garb  and  drink- 
ing a  pot  in  a  cellar.  This  scrivener 
came  into  the  cellar  after  some  of  his 
clients ;  and  his  eye  caught  that  face 
which  made  him  start ;  and  the  chan- 
cellor, seeing  himself  eyed,  feigned  a 
cough  and  turned  to  the  wall. 


The  Arbitrary  Rule   of   James   II.        177 


7.  Extract  from  the  Bloody  Assizes. 

Case  of  Mr.  John  Tut  chin. 

This  young  gentleman  had  the  mis- 
fortune, with  many  others  of  his  ac- 
quaintance, to  be  in  the  interest  of  the 
Duke  of  Monmouth,  but  had  a  better 
fortune  than  many  of  'em,  by  conceal- 
ing his  name.  For  ...  he  was  com- 
mitted to  prison  under  the  borrow' d 
name  of  Thomas  Pitts,  and  his  real 
name  was  not  discovered  till  after  he 
was  acquitted  of  the  Rebellion,  no 
person  appearing  as  evidence  against 
him. 

But  Jeffreys  having  discovered  his 
true  name  before  Mr.  Tutchin  was 
gone  from  the  prison,  was  resolv'd 
upon  revenge,  and  said  he  was  never 
so  far  outwitted,  by  an  old  or  young 
rogue  in  his  life. 

Mr.  Tutchin  .  .  .  was  brought  up 
again  to  the  hall ;  but  Jeffreys  not  car- 
ing to  indict  him  for  rebellion,  pre- 
tended that  the  crime  of  changing  his 
name  deserved  a  severe  sentence ;  and 
thereupon  passed  sentence  as  follows  : 
That  he  should  remain  in  prison  during 
the  space  of  seven  years ;  that  once 
every  year  he  should  be  whipt  thro' 
all  the  market  towns  in  Dorsetshire ; 
that  he  should  pay  a  fine  of  ioo  marks 
to  the  king,  and  find  security  for  his 
good  behaviour  during  life.  This,  you 
will  say,  was  a  whipping-sentence 
indeed. 

It  was  observable,  when  this  sentence 
was  past  upon  Mr.  Tutchin,  that  the 
ladies  in  the  court,  of  which  there  were 
a  great  many,  all  burst  out  a  crying ; 
but  Jeffreys  turning  towards  them, 
said,  "  Ladies,  if  you  did  but  know 
what  a  villain  this  is,  as  well  as  I  do, 
you  would  say,  this  sentence  is  not  half 
bad  enough  for  him." 

Upon  passing  the  sentence  the  clerk 
of  the  arraigns  stood  up,  and  said, 
''My   Lord,   there    are    a    great    many 


market-towns  in  this  county,  the  sen- 
tence reaches  to  a  whipping  about  once 
a  fortnight,  and  he's  a  very  young 
man."  "Aye,"  says  Jeffreys,  "he's 
a  young  man,  but  he's  an  old  rogue; 
and  all  the  interest  in  England  shan't 
reverse  the  sentence  I  have  past  upon 
him." 

But  certainly  no  devil  incarnate  could 
rage,  nor  no  Billingsgate  woman  could 
scould  worse  than  this  judge  did  at  this 
young  gentleman  whilst  he  was  at  the 
bar.  He  .  .  .  told  him  that  he  was  a 
rebel  from  Adam,  that  never  any  of  his 
family  had  the  least  loyalty ;  and,  said 
he,  "I  understand  you  are  a  wit  and 
poet,  pray  sir,  let  you  and  I  cap 
verses."  Mr.  Tutchin  smil'd  in  his 
face,  and  told  him  he  knew  upon  what 
ground  he  stood,  and  when  he  was 
overmatched.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Tutchin  .  .  .  drew  up  a  peti- 
tion with  his  own  hand,  which  was  pre- 
sented to  the  King  at  Winchester,  and 
was  as  follows  .  .  .  "  That  he  humbly 
conceives  the  sentence  pass'd  upon  him 
by  the  said  Jeffreys  is  worse  than  death  ; 
and  therefore  humbly  prays  your  Maj- 
esty will  be  mercifully  pleas' d  to  grant 
him  the  favour  of  being  hang'd  with 
those  of  his  fellow-prisoners,  that  are 
condemned  to  die."  .  .  .  The  Court 
esteemed  it  a  barbarous  sentence ;  and 
it's  said  the  King  esteemed  it  no  less. 
But  all  the  answer  could  be  got,  was 
from  the  Lord  Sunderland,  That  Mr. 
Tutchin  must  wait  with  patience.   .   .  . 

Four  or  five  days  before  the  execu- 
tion of  the  sentence,  a  brother  in  law  of 
Mr.  Tutchins,  a  physician,  persuaded 
him  to  take  a  dose  of  physic  to  make 
himself  sick,  by  which  means  the  exe- 
cution might  be  put  off.  .  .  .  He  took 
the  dose  and  in  three  or  four  days  the 
small-pox  came  out  very  thick  upon 
him,  no  man  ever  had  'em  to  a  higher 
degree.  .  .  .  Mr.  Tutchin  lying  in  this 
miserable    condition   .   .   .  his    friends 


178        The  Arbitrary  Rule  of  James  II. 


worked  the  easier  with  Jeffreys  to  get 
the  sentence  reversed,  which  some  peo- 
ple would  have  believed  a  sign  of  re- 
pentance in  Jeffreys,  had  he  not  taken 
the  money  himself.  ...  So  he  was 
popt  into  a  pardon  amongst  others  ;  for 
'twas  usual  at  that  time  for  one  courtier 
to  get  a  pardon  of  the  king  for  half  a 
score,  and  then  by  the  assistance  of 
Jeffreys  to  augment  the  sum  to  four- 
score or  an  hundred,  and  so  this  unfor^ 
tunate  gentleman  fortunately  got  out  of 
his  broil.   ... 

Who  could  have  thought,  when 
Jeffreys  past  that  sentence  on  Mr. 
Tutchin  in  the  West,  that  ever  Mr. 
Tutchin  should  see  that  wicked  judge  a 
prisoner,  apprehended  by  the  injur' d 
people,  and  committed  by  a  tool  of  his 
own  party  ?     Yet  so  it  happened. 

For  Jeffreys  endeavouring  to  make 
his  escape  beyond  sea  in  a  sailor's  habit 
was  .  .  .  taken  in  Anchor-and-Hope 
Alley  in  Wapping,  and  by  the  mob 
carried  before  the  instrument  of  Popery, 
Sir  J — —  C— - — ,  then  Lord  Mayor  of 
the  City  of  London,  and  by  him  com- 
mitted to  the  Tower. 

Mr.  Tutchin  hearing  of  this,  went  to 
give  his  Lordship  a  visit ;  who  did  not 
know  Mr.  Tutchin  at  first,  he  being 
much  altered  with  the  small-pox ;  but 
Jeffreys  understanding  who  he  was, 
told  him,  "  He  was  glad  to  see  him." 
Mr.  Tutchin  answered,  "He  was  glad 
to  see  him  in  that  place."  Jeffreys  re- 
turned, that  time  and  place  happened 
to  all  men,  .  .  .  and  abundance  of 
such  cant;  but  added,  that  he  had 
served  his  master  very  faithfully  accord- 
ing to  his  conscience.  Mr.  Tutchin 
asked  him,  where  his  conscience  was 
when  he  past. that  sentence  on  him  in 
the  West?  Jeffreys  said  .  .  .  "'twas 
part  of  my  instructions,  to  spare  no 
man  of  courage,  parts  or  estate"  ;  but 
withal  added,  that  his  instructions  were 
much  more  severe  than  the  execution  of 


them,  and  that  at  his  return  he  was 
snub'd  at  Court  for  being  too  merciful. 
So  after  he  had  treated  Mr.  Tutchin 
with  a  glass  of  wine,  Mr.  Tutchin 
■went  away. 

Soon  after  this  Jeffreys  had  a  barrel 
of  oysters  sent  him  to  the  Tower,  which 
he  caused  to  be  opened,  sayings  He 
thanked  God  he  had  some  friends  left. 
But  when  the  oysters  were  tumbled  out 
on  the  table,  a  halter  came  out  with 
them,  which  made  him  change  his 
countenance,  and  so  pall'd  his  stomach 
that  he  could  eat  none  of  them.  This 
was  confidently  reported  to  be  done  by 
Mr.  Tutchin ;  but  I  having  heard  him 
protest  that  he  was  not  in  the  least  con- 
cerned therein,  we  must  believe  it  to  be 
done  by  another  hand. 


8.  Extracts  from  Evelyn. 

Dec.  29th,  1686. 
I  went  to  heare  the  musiq  of  the 
Italians  in  the  New  Chapel,  now  first 
open'd  publicky  at  Whitehall  for  the 
Popish  service.  .  .  .  The  throne  where 
the  King  and  Queene  sit  is  very  glori- 
ous, in  a  closet  above,  just  opposite  to 
the  altar.  Here  we  saw  the  Bishop  in 
his  mitre  and  rich  copes,  with  6  or  7 
Jesuits  and  others  in  rich  copes,  sump- 
tuously habited,  often  taking  off  and 
putting  on  the  Bishop's  mitre,  who  sate 
in  a  chaire  with  armes  pontificaly,  was 
ador'd  and  cens'd  by  3  Jesuits  in  their 
copes ;  then  he  went  to  the  altar  and 
made  divers  cringes,  then  censing  the 
images  and  glorious  tabernacle  plac'd 
on  the  altar,  and  now  and  then  chang- 
ing place :  the  crosier  which  was  of 
silver,  was  put  into  his  hand  with  a 
world  of  mysterious  ceremony,  the 
musiq  playing,  with  singing.  I  could 
not  have  believed  I  should  ever  have 
seene  such  things  in  the  King  of  Eng- 
land's Palace,  after  it  had  pleas' d  God 
to  enlighten  this  Nation  ;  but  owr  greate 


cA ma <7am&)  Wr vv wna'j . /err )  / &mt /•</<>>/•  , m i wi vw /■///,/ 
to  Jr/ir    //'/mj<; '/   }  /'/'  ///',//tP 

^7       ^r    --"  __ 

itrPetmsiA/hotc/orjt  thon^at/^Z^sSy^  Kjaurt  ss/ih^ p6um{  J<ftyM  noyj. 


/>/   1  /  >!////(> fi '.,-    //.> 


The  Arbitrary  Rule  of  James  II.         179 


sin  has,  for  the  present,  eclips'd  the 
blessing,  which  I  hope  He  will  in 
mercy  and  his  good  time  restore  to  its 
purity. 

Jan.  17th,  1686-7. 

Much  expectation  of  severall  greate 
men  declaring  themselves  Papists. 
Lord  Tyrconnell  gone  to  succeed  the 
Lord  Lieutenant  in  Ireland,  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  all  sober  men,  and  to 
the  evident  ruine  of  the  Protestants  in 
that  kingdom,  as  well  as  of  its  greate 
improvement  going  on.  Much  dis- 
course that  all  the  White  Staff  officers 
and  others  should  be  dismiss' d  for  ad- 
hering to  their  religion.  Popish  Jus- 
tices of  the  Peace  establish' d  in  all 
counties,  of  the  meanest  of  the  people  ; 
Judges  ignorant  of  the  law  and  per- 
verting it — so  furiously  do  the  Jesuits 
drive,  and  even  compel  Princes  to  vio- 
lent courses,  and  destruction  of  an  ex- 
cellent government  both  in  Church  and 
State.  God  of  his  infinite  mercy  open 
our  eyes  and  turn  our  hearts,  and  es- 
tablish his  truth  with  peace !  The 
Lord  Jesus  defend  his  little  flock,  and 
preserve  this  threatened  Church  and 
Nation. 

March  2nd. 

Came  out  a  proclamation  for  uni- 
versal liberty  of  conscience  in  Scotland, 
and  dispensation  from  all  tests  and 
lawes  to  the  contraiy,  as  also  capacitat- 
ing Papists  to  be  chosen  into  all  offices 
of  trust.     The  mysterie  operates. 

March  ioth. 
Most  of  the  greate  officers,  both  in 
the  court  and  country,  Lords  and 
others,  were  dismiss' d,  as  they  would 
not  promise  his  Majesty  their  consent 
to  the  repeal  of  the  test  and  penal 
statutes  against  Popish  Recusants.  .  .  . 
This  was  a  time  of  greate  trial,  but 
hardly  one  of  them  assented,  which 
put  the  Popish  interest  much  back- 
ward. 


April  15th,  168S. 
The  persecution  still  raging  in 
France,  multitudes  of  Protestants,  and 
many  very  considerable  and  greate  per- 
sons flying  hither,  produc'd  a  general 
contribution,  the  Papists,  by  God's 
Providence,  as  yet  making  small  prog- 
ress amongst  us.   .   .   . 

May  8th. 
His  Majesty,  alarmed  by  the  greate 
fleet  of  the  Dutch  (whilst  we  had  a 
very  inconsiderable  one),  went  down 
to  Chatham  ;  their  fleete  was  well  pre- 
par'd,  and  out,  before  we  were  in  any 
readinesse,  or  had  any  considerable 
number  to  have  encounter' d  them  had 
there  ben  occasion,  to  the  great  reproch 
of  the  nation ;  whilst  being  in  pro- 
found peace,  there  was  a  mighty  land 
army,  which  there  was  no  neede  of, 
and  no  force  at  sea,  where  only  was  the 
apprehension  ;  but  the  army  was  doubt- 
less kept  and  increas'd  in  order  to  bring 
in  and  countenance  Popery,  the  King 
beginning  to  discover  his  intentions,  by 
many  instances  persued  by  the  Jesuits, 
against  his  first  resolution  to  altar  noth- 
ing in  the  Church  Establishment,  so 
that  it  appear' d  there  can  be  no  reli- 
ance on  Popish  promises. 

June  8th. 
This  day  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, with  the  Bishops  of  Ely,  Chi- 
chester, St.  Asaph,  Bristol,  Peterbor- 
ough, and  Bath  and  Wells,  were  sent 
from  the  Privy  Council  prisoners  to  the 
Tower,  for  refusing  to  give  baile  for 
their  appearance,  on  their  not  reading 
the  declaration  for  liberty  of  conscience  ; 
they  refus'd  to  give  baile,  as  it  would 
have  prejudic'd  their  peerage.  The 
concern  of  the  people  for  them  was 
wonderfull,  infinite  crouds  on  their 
knees  begging  their  blessing,  and  pray- 
ing for  them  as  they  pass'd  out  of  the 
barge  along  the  Tower  wharf. 


180        The  Arbitrary  Rule  of  James  II. 


ioth. 

A  Toting  Prince  borne,  which  will 
cause  disputes.  About  2  o'clock  we 
heard  the  Tower  ordnance  discharg'd, 
and  the  bells  ringing  for  the  birth  of  a 
Prince  of  Wales.  This  was  very  sur- 
prizing, it  having  been  universally  given 
out  that  her  Majesty  did  not  look  till 
the  next  moneth. 

June  29th. 

The  trial  [of  the  bishops]  lasted 
from  9  in  the  morning  to  past  6  in  the 
evening,  when  the  Jury  retired  to  con- 
sider of  their  verdict,  and  the  Court 
adjourned  to  9  the  next  morning.  .  .  . 
The  Chief  Justice  Wright  behav'd 
with  great  moderation  and  civility  to 
the  Bishops.  Alibone,  a  Papist,  was 
strongly  against  them  ;  but  Holloway 
and  Powell,  being  of  opinion  in  their 
favour,  they  were  acquitted.  WThen 
this  was  heard  there  was  greate  rejoic- 
ing ;  and  there  was  a  lane  of  people 
from  the  King's  Bench  to  the  water 
side,  on  their  knees,  as  the  Bishops 
pass'd  and  repass' d,  to  beg  their  bless- 
ing. Bonfires  were  made  that  night, 
and  bells  rung,  which  was  taken  very 
ill  at  Court,  and  an  appearance  of 
neere  60  Earls  and  Lords,  etc.,  on  the 
bench,  did  not  a  little  comfort  them, 
but  indeede  they  were  all  along  full  of 
comfort  and  cheerfull. 

Note,  they  denied  to  pay  the  Lieu- 
tenant of  the  Tower  (Hales,  who  us'd 
them  very  surlily)  any  fees,  alledging 
that  none  were  due. 

Sept.  30th. 

The  Court  in  so  extraordinary  a  con- 
sternation on  assurance  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange's  intention  to  land,  that  the 
writs  sent  forth  for  a  Parliament  were 
recall' d. 


October  7th. 
Hourly  expectation  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange's  invasion  heighten' d  to  that 
degree  that  his  Majesty  thought  fit  to 
abrogate  the  Commission  for  the  dis- 
pensing power  (but  retaining  hk  own 
right  still  to  dispense  with  all  laws)  and 
restore  the  ejected  Fellows  of  Magda- 
len College,  Oxford.  In  the  mean 
time  he  called  over  5000  Irish  and  4000 
Scots,  and  continued  to  remove  Protes- 
tants and  put  in  papists  at  Portsmouth 
and  other  places  of  trust,  and  retained 
the  Jesuits  about  him,  increasing  the 
universal  discontent.  It  brought  peo- 
ple to  so  desperate  a  passe,  that  they 
seem'd  passionately  to  long  for  and 
desire  the  landing  of  that  Prince  whom 
they  look'd  on  to  be  their  deliverer  from 
Popish  tyranny,  praying  incessantly  for 
an  east  wind,  which  was  said  to  be  the 
only  hindrance  of  his  expedition  with  a 
numerous  army  ready  to  make  a 
descent.  To  such  a  strange  temper, 
and  unheard-of  in  former  times,  was 
this  poore  nation  reduc'd,  and  of  which 
I  was  an  eye-witness.  The  apprehen- 
sion was  (and  with  reason)  that  his 
Majesty's  forces  would  neither  at  land 
or  sea  oppose  them  with  that  vigour 
requisite  to  repel  invaders. 

Oct.  14th. 
The  King's  birth-day.  No  gunns 
from  the  Tower  as  usual.  The  sun 
eclips'd  at  its  rising.  This  day  signal 
for  the  victory  of  William  the  Con- 
queror against  Harold,  near  Battel  in 
Sussex.  The  wind,  which  had  been 
hitherto  west,  was  east  all  this  day. 
.  .  .  Public  prayers  order' d  to  be 
read  in  the  churches  against  inva- 
sion. 


The  Coming  of  William  and   Mary       181 


GROUP   XX. 


THE    COMING    OF    WILLIAM    AND    MARY. 


I.  Speech  of  the  Prince  of  Orange 
to  his  Dutch  Estates.  (In  Ellis,  Orig- 
inal Letters,  Series  II.  Vol.  IV.  p.  140.) 

Hague,  Oct.  13th,  1 688,  Old  Stile. 

My  Lords  :  I  am  going  to  the  navy 
to  embark.  I  hope  you  do  not  take  it 
ill  that  I  do  not  make  it  known  to  you 
all  where  I  am  going.  I  will  assure 
your  Lordships,  that  what  I  am  design- 
ing is  for  the  good  of  the  Protestant 
Religion  in  general  and  of  your  State 
in  particular,  as  is  not  unknown  to 
some  among  you.  I  will  either  succeed 
in  it  or  spend  my  blood  to  the  last  drop. 

My  Lords,  your  trust  in  me,  and 
kindness  to  me  at  this  time,  is  un- 
bounded ;  if  I  live  and  make  it  not  the 
business  of  my  life  to  make  your  Lord- 
ships suitable  returns  for  it,  my  God 
blast  all  my  designs,  and  make  me  pass 
for  the  most  ungrateful  wretch  that 
ever  lived. 

Uerr  FageV s  Answer  by  Order  (z'b.) 

Sir :  My  Lords  the  States  are  not  at 
all  displeased  that  you  conceal  from 
them  your  design ;  they  do  repose  an 
entire  confidence  in  your  Highness' 
conduct,  zeal  to  the  Protestant  religion 
and  affection  to  their  State ;  otherwise 
they  would  never  have  given  you  the 
absolute  disposal  of  their  navy,  their 
armies,  and  their  money.  My  Lord, 
the  States  wish  you  all  the  success  in 
your  designs,  and  have  ordered  a  Public 
Fast,  and  Prayers  to  God,  for  your 
success  through  all  their  dominions ; 
and  beg  it  of  your  Highness  not  to  ven- 
ture your  life  and  person  unnecessarily, 
for  though  their  navy  and  their  army 
be  the  very  sinews  of  their  State,  your 
person  is  more  considerable  to  them 
than  both. 


2.  Diary  of  Sir  John  Reresby.  (Pub- 
lished in  London,  Longmans,  1875.) 

August  25,  1 688. 
I  carried  my  wife  and  daughter  to 
Windsor  to  wait  on  the  Queen.  The 
Court  was  in  some  trouble  and  the 
King  [James  II]  out  of  humour  (though 
he  was  always  of  so  even  a  temper  that 
it  was  hard  to  discover  it)  at  the  news 
of  the  Dutch  having  set  out  a  great  fleet 
as  designed  against  us,  that  the  French 
and  the  Dutch  were  to  fall  out,  and 
that  we  were  pressed  on  both  sides  to 
declare  speedily  which  to  take.  This, 
considering  our  affairs  at  home — viz. 
the  jealousies  about  religion,  violent 
discontents  about  the  army,  and  the  ill 
time  to  call  a  Parliament  to  get  money, 
did  reasonably  enough  disturb  our 
councils.  The  King  the  first  thing  he 
did  was  to  declare  that  he  would  call  a 
Parliament  to  meet  the  27th  of  Novem- 
ber following,  and  gave  several  reasons 
for  it  in  Council,  relating  to  the  good 
and  satisfaction  of  the  nation,  more 
than  the  apprehension  that  he  seemed 
to  have  for  the  Dutch.   .   .   . 

October  10. 

The  news  of  the  Prince  of  Orange 
increased  daily,  as  to  his  great  fleet 
ready  to  sail. 

.  .  .  Upon  some  discourse  with  the 
said  Earl  (Danby)  at  the  dean's  house, 
the  15th  of  October,  he  used  these 
expressions:  "We  are  in  ill  condi- 
tion now  in  this  nation  all  ways,  for 
if  the  King  beat  the  prince,  popery  will 
return  upon  us  with  more  violence  than 
ever.  If  the  prince  beat  the  King,  the 
Crown  and  the  nation  may  be  in  some 
danger."  All  of  which  was  not  alto- 
gether untrue. 


1 82       The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary 


October  17th. 
...  It  was  very  strange,  and  a  cer- 
tain forerunner  of  the  mischiefs  that 
ensued  upon  this  invasion,  that  neither 
the  gentry  nor  common  people  seemed 
much  afraid  or  concerned  at  it,  saying, 
"The  prince  comes  only  to  maintain 
the  Protestant  religion — he  will  do 
England  no  harm."  On  the  other 
hand  it  was  suggested  from  Court  that 
he  aimed  at  the  Crown,  and  the  Dutch, 
who  assisted  him,  at  the  trade,  of  Eng- 
land. And  the  truth  is,  his  own  dec- 
laration when  it  came,  which  was  a 
little  before  he  landed  himself,  seemed 
suspicious  enough ;  for  it  set  forth  all 
the  grievances  of  the  nation  with  great 
aggravations— as  the  King's  intention 
to  subvert  the  Government  both  in 
Church  and  State ;  that  he  intended  to 
root  out  the  Protestant  religion,  to 
which  purpose  he  had  set  up  the  dis- 
pensing power  with  the  laws ;  had 
moulded  all  the  charters  to  his  own 
mind,  to  the  end  he  might  have  such 
members  of  Parliament  chosen  as  he 
desired ;  had  examined  and  pre- 
engaged  such  as  he  intended  for  mem- 
bers in  the  matter  of  taking  off  the  test 
and  the  penal  laws ;  and  had,  chiefly, 
put  a  feigned  or  supposititious  Prince 
of  Wales  upon  the  nation,  only  to 
promote  popery,  and  to  defeat  the 
Prince  and  Princess  of  Orange  of  their 
right  of  succession. 


3.  Extracts  from  Burnet. 

1688. 
.  .  .  The  prince  desired  me  to  go 
along  with  him  as  his  chaplain,  to 
which  I  very  readily  agreed  :  for  being 
fully  satisfied  in  my  conscience  that  the 
undertaking  was  lawful  and  just,  and 
having  had  a  considerable  hand  in  advis- 
ing the  whole  progress  of  it,  I  thought 
it  would  have  been  an  unbecoming 
fear  in  me  to   have  taken  care  of    my 


own  person,  when  the  prince  was  ven- 
turing his,  and  the  whole  was  now  to 
be  put  to  hazard.  It  is  true,  I  being  a 
Scotish  man  by  birth,  had  reason  to 
expect,  that,  if  I  had  fallen  into  the 
enemies  hands,  I  should  have  been  sent 
to  Scotland,  and  put  to  the  torture  there. 
And,  having  this  in  prospect,  I  took 
care  to  know  no  particulars  of  any  one 
of  those  who  corresponded  with  the 
prince.  So  that  knowing  nothing 
against  any,  even  torture  it  self  could  not 
have  drawn  from  me  that  by  which 
any  person  could  be  hurt.  ...  At 
last,  on  the  nineteenth  of  October,  the 
prince  went  aboard,  and  the  whole 
fleet  sailed  out  that  night.  But  the 
next  day  the  wind  turned  into  the 
north,  and  settled  in  the  north-west. 
At  night  a  great  storm  rose.  We 
wrought  against  it  all  that  night,  and 
the  next  day.  But  it  was  in  vain  to 
struggle  any  longer.  And  so  vast  a 
fleet  run  no  small  hazard,  being 
obliged  to  keep  together,  and  yet  not  to 
come  too  near  one  another.  On  the 
twenty-first  in  the  afternoon  the  signal 
was  given  to  go  in  again  :  and  on  the 
twenty  second  the  far  greater  part  got 
safe  into  port.  Many  ships  were  at 
first  wanting,  and  were  believed  to  be 
lost.  But  after  a  few  days  all  came 
in.   .   .   . 

On  the  first  of  November,  O.  S.,  we 
sailed  out  with  the  evening  tide.  .  .  . 
On  the  third  we  passed  between  Dover 
and  Calais,  and  before  night  came  in 
sight  of  the  Isle  of  Wight.  .  .  .  Tor- 
bay  was  thought  the  best  place  for  our 
great  fleet  to  lie  in  :  and  it  was  resolved 
to  land  the  army,  where  it  could  be 
best  done  near  it ;  reckoning,  that  being 
at  such  a  distance  from  London,  we 
could  provide  ourselves  with  horses, 
and  put  everything  in  order  before  the 
King  could  march  his  army  towards  us, 
and  that  we  should  lie  some  time  at 
Exeter  for  the  refreshing  our  men.     I 


The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary       183 


was  in  the  ship,  with  the  prince's  other 
domestics,  that  went  in  the  van  of  the 
whole  fleet.  ...  A  soft  and  happy- 
gale  of  wind  carried  in  the  whole  fleet 
.  .  .  into  Torbay.  ...  As  soon  as  the 
prince  and  marshal  Schomberg  got  to 
shore,  they  were# furnished  with  such 
horses  as  the  village  of  Broxholme 
could  afford  ;  and  rode  up  to  view  the 
grounds,  which  they  found  as  conven- 
ient as  could  be  imagined  for  the  foot 
in  that  season.  It  was  not  a  cold  night : 
otherwise  the  soldiers,  who  had  been 
kept  warm  aboard,  might  have  suffered 
much  by  it.  As  soon  as  I  landed,  I 
made  what  haste  I  could  to  the  place 
where  the  prince  was ;  who  took  me 
heartily  by  the  hand,  and  asked  me,  if 
I  would  not  now  believe  predestina- 
tion. I  told  him,  I  would  never  forget 
that  providence  of  God,  which  had  ap- 
peared so  signally  on  this  occasion. 
He  was  cheerfuller  than  ordinary. 
Yet  he  returned  soon  to  his  usual  grav- 
ity. .  .  .  All  that  belonged  to  us  was 
so  soon  and  so  happily  landed,  that  by 
the  next  day  at  noon  we  were  in  full 
march,  and  marched  four  miles  that 
night.  We  had  from  thence  twenty 
miles  to  Exeter.  .  .  .  The  prince  made 
haste  to  Exeter,  where  he  stayed  ten 
days,  both  for  refreshing  his  troops, 
and  for  giving  the  country  time  to  shew 
their  affections.  Both  the  clergy  and 
magistrates  of  Exeter  were  very  fearful, 
and  very  backward.  The  bishop  and 
the  dean  ran  away.  And  the  clergy 
stood  off,  though  they  were  sent  for, 
and  very  gently  spoke  to  by  the  prince. 
.  .  .  Yet  care  was  taken  to  protect 
them  and  their  houses  every  where  :  so 
that  no  sort  of  violence  or  rudeness  was 
offered  to  any  of  them.  The  prince 
gave  me  full  authority  to  do  this  :  and 
I  took  so  particular  a  care  of  it,  that  we 
heard  of  no  complaints.  .  .  .  We 
stayed  a  week  at  Exeter,  before  any  of 
the   gentlemen   of    the    country   about 


came  in  to  the  prince.  .  .  • .  One  regi- 
ment came  over  in  a  body,  and  with 
them  about  a  hundred  of  the  other  two. 
This  gave  us  great  courage  ;  and  shewed 
us,  that  we  had  not  been  deceived  in 
what  was  told  us  of  the  inclinations  of 
the  King's  army.  .  .  .  The  King 
wanted  support :  for  his  spirits  sunk 
extremely.  His  blood  was  in  such  fer- 
mentation, that  he  was  bleeding  much 
at  the  nose,  which  returned  oft  upon 
him  every  day.  He  sent  many  spies 
over  to  us.  They  all  took  his  money, 
and  came  and  joined  themselves  to  the 
prince.  .  .  .  And  the  body  of  the  na- 
tion did  every  where  discover  their  in- 
clinations for  the  prince  so  evidently, 
that  the  King  saw  he  had  nothing  to 
trust  to  but  his  army.  And  the  ill  dis- 
position among  them  was  so  apparent, 
that  he  reckoned  he  could  not  depend 
on  them.  So  that  he  lost  both  heart 
and  head  at  once. 


/ 


4.  Extracts  from  Reresby. 

November  22. 
The  day  being  come  and  the  fatal 
one,  I  would  not  go  to  the  common 
hall  [in  York,  of  which  he  was  gov- 
ernor.— Ed.]  where  the  meeting  was 
appointed.  Nor,  indeed,  was  I  very 
able,  being  ill  bruised  by  my  horse 
falling  upon  me  as  I  came  from  home ; 
but  I  heard  that,  amongst  about  100 
gentlemen  that  met,  Sir  Henry  Good- 
ricke  spoke  to  this  purpose,  that  there 
having  been  a  great  endeavour  by  the 
Government  to  bring  popery  into  this 
kingdom  of  late  years,  and  to  invade 
the  laws  many  ways,  that  there  was  no 
way  to  redress  grievances  of  this  and 
other  natures  but  by  a  free  Parliament ; 
and  therefore  this  was  the  only  time  to 
petition  the  King  for  it.  .  .  .  When 
such  a  draft  was  finished  as  Sir  Henry 
and  his  party  approved  of,  though 
many  that  disliked  it  went  away,  they 


184      The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary 


m  to  sign ;  and  when  Mr.  Woi'tley 
Montagu  and  Sir  Henry  had  done, 
before  a  third  man  could  sign,  Mr. 
Tankard  runs  into  the  hall  and  cries 
that  the  papists  were  risen,  and  had 
fired  at  the  militia  troops.  At  this  all 
the  gentlemen  ran  out,  and  those  that 
were  privy  to  the  design  got  their 
horses,  which  were  laid  ready  for 
them,  as  Sir  Henry  Goodricke,  Mr. 
Wortley  Montague,  Mr.  Tankard,  My 
Lord  Danby,  who  was  ready  in  his 
lodging  expecting  this  feigned  alarm, 
my  Lord  Dumblane,  his  son,  my  Lord 
Willoughby,  two  Mr.  Berties,  my  Lord 
Lumley,  my  Lord  Horton,  and  several 
others,  who  made  a  party  with  their 
servants  of  a  hundred  horse,  well 
armed  and  well  mounted,  rode  up  to 
the  four  militia  troops  drawn  up  for 
another  purpose,  and  cried  for  a  free 
Parliament,  the  Protestant  religion  and 
no  popery.  The  captains  of  these  four 
troops  were  Lord  Fairfax,  Sir  Thomas 
Gower,  Mr.  Robinson,  and  Captain 
Tankard,  who,  being  made  privy  to 
the  design  only  the  night  before,  but 
men  ready  enough  in  their  tempers  for 
such  an  action,  complied,  and  led  all 
their  men  to  join  with  them.  The  first 
step  they  made  was  to  the  place  where 
the  guard  of  the  standing  company  was 
kept,  consisting  of  about  twenty  men, 
which  they  surprised,  before  I  had  the 
least  notice  or  jealousy  of  such  an  at- 
tempt, nor  believing  it  possible  that 
men  of  such  quality  and  estates,  how- 
ever dissatisfied,  would  engage  in  a 
design  so  desperate,  and  so  contrary  to 
the  laws  of  the  land  and  the  religion 
which  they  professed.  As  soon  as  I 
heard  of  it  I  sent  for  the  officers  and 
the  guard,  but  found  it  was  surprised. 
I  then  sent  to  every  captain  to  bring  his 
troop  to  me  as  the  King's  governor,  as 
also  to  the  other  guard  of  foot  of  the 
militia,  who  all  denied  to  march  or  to 
obey  orders.     I  then  sent  for  my  horses, 


and  as  I  was  preparing  to  go  to  the 
troops,  hoping  to  regain  them  to  the 
King's  service  if  I  appeared,  Sir  Henry 
Bellasis,  who  had  commanded  a  regi- 
ment in  Holland  under  the  prince,  and 
lurked  long  here  in  Yorkshire  for  his 
service,  drew  up  a  party  of  thirty  horse 
before  my  door,  and  there  prevented 
my  going  out,  till  my  lord  of  Danby 
with  his  chief  companions,  came  up  to 
me. 

My  lord  told  me  that  to  resist  was  to 
no  purpose ;  that  he  and  these  gentle- 
men were  in  arms  for  a  free  Parlia- 
ment, and  for  the  preservation  of  the 
Protestant  religion  and  the  government, 
as  by  law  established,  which  the  King 
had  very  near  destroyed,  and  which  the 
Prince  of  Orange  was  come  to  assist 
them  to  defend,  and  that  he  hoped  I 
would  join  them  in  so  good  a  design. 
I  told  him  I  was  for  a  Parliament  and 
the  Protestant  religion  as  well  as  they, 
but  I  was  also  for  the  King.  He  re- 
plied that  he  was  so  too,  and  therefore 
he  hoped  that  as  we  agreed  in  princi- 
ples so  we  should  agree  in  action.  I 
told  his  lordship  that,  though  we  agreed 
in  the  matter,  I  could  not  agree  with 
them  in  the  manner.  I  did  not  con- 
ceive anything  ought  to  be  exacted 
from  the  King  by  any  manner  of  force, 
and  that  particularly,  having  his  Maj- 
esty's commissioner  of  governor  and 
for  his  service,  I  could  not  join  with 
those  that  acted  against  his  authority 
and  commission,  let  the  consequence 
be  what  it  would.  He  then  said  he 
must  imprison  me.  I  told  him  I  was 
naked,  and  my  friends  had  relinquished 
the  King's  service  and  me,  and  I  was 
in  his  power.  After  they  had  consid- 
ered together,  he  told  me  he  knew  me 
to  be  a  man  of  honour,  that  my  en- 
gagement not  to  stir  nor  write  was  as 
good  a  restraint  upon  me  as  a  guard  or 
a  prison.  So  I  was  only  confined  upon 
honour   to    my   room,    recommending, 


The  Coming  of  William  and   Mary       185 


however,  to  me  to  consider  of  his  offer. 
After  this  the  same  day  they  secured 
all  the  gates,  set  strong  guards  upon 
them,  and  suffered  none  to  go  in  or  out. 

November  26th. 
Having  made  it  my  request  to  the 
Earl  of  Danby  that  I  might  have  leave 
to  be  prisoner  at  my  house  in  the  coun- 
try, where  I  would  engage  not  to  act, 
but  to  acquiesce  and  abide  a  true  pris- 
oner, he  sent  for  me  to  come  and  dine 
with  him.  At  my  coming  he  told  me, 
that  I  might  eat  my  dinner  the  better 
upon  the  said  terms,  I  should  have 
leave  to  go  where  I  pleased. 


5.  Letters  from  an  unknown  Corres- 
pondent to  John  Ellis,  Esq.,  at  Dublin. 
(In  Ellis,  Series  II.  Vol.  IV.  p.  157.) 

London,  Nov.  23rd,  1688. 
I  had  yours  of  the  23rd  past  and 
thank  you  in  the  name  of  the  Kingdom 
for  the  quiet  repose  you  promised  us 
this  winter ;  but  by  the  last  Easterly 
wind  you  would  find  we  are  not  to 
enjoy  such  sweet  sleeps  as  you  wish  us, 
for  the  Army  27000  strong  will  be  able 
to  offer  battle  by  Tuesday  next  on  Salis- 
bury Plains,  and  our  imperial  Monarch 
-at  the  head  of  them,  where  my  person 
(amongst  his  faithful  subjects)  intend 
to  stick  by  him.  I  am  like  to  be  well 
paid  for  my  pains,  but  cannot  at  this 
instant  tell  the  value,  but  it  is  no  pait 
of  the  reason  of  my  going  :  though  I 
can  (to  my  sorrow)  say  why  milk-asses 
are  provided  for.   .   .   . 

27.  Nov. 
Yesterday  between  four  and  five  of 
the  clock  the  King  came  to  Whitehall, 
and  looks  very  well.  We  hear  by  some 
of  his  company  that  Prince  George,  the 
Dukes  of  Grafton  .  .  .  and  very  many 
others  of  note  are  gone  to  the  Prince  of 
Orange's  army  .  .  .  but  what  is  at 
least  as  bad  news  as  this,  is,  that  yes- 


terday morning  when  the  Princess  of 
Denmark's  (James's  daughter,  later 
Queen  Anne)  women  went  to  take  her 
out  of  her  bed  they  found  she  had  with- 
drawn herself,  and  hath  not  yet  been 
heard  of.  Nobody  went  in  her  com- 
pany that  we  hear  of  besides  Lady 
Churchill  and  Mrs.  Berkeley. 


6.  Letter  left  behind  by  Princess 
Anne  for  the  Queen.   In  Ellis,  p.  166.) 

Madam  :  I  beg  your  pardon  if  I  am 
so  deeply  affected  with  the  surprising 
news  of  the  Prince's  (of  Denmark) 
being  gone  as  not  to  be  able  to  see  you, 
but  to  leave  this  paper  to  express  my 
humble  duty  to  the  King  and  yourself ; 
and  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  gone  to 
absent  myself  to  avoid  the  King's  dis- 
pleasure, which  I  am  not  able  to  bear, 
either  against  the  Prince  or  myself  :  and 
I  shall  stay  at  so  great  a  distance  as  not 
to  return  before  I  hear  the  happy  news 
of  a  reconcilement :  and,  as  I  am  con- 
fident the  Prince  did  not  leave  the  King 
with  any  other  design  than  to  use  all 
possible  means  for  his  preservation,  so 
I  hope  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to 
believe  that  I  am  incapable  of  follow- 
ing him  for  any  other  end.  Never 
was  any  one  in  such  an  unhappy  con- 
dition, so  divided  between  duty  and  af- 
fection to  a  father  and  an  husband  ;  and 
therefore  I  know  not  what  I  must  do, 
but  to  follow  one  to  preserve  the  other. 
I  see  the  general  falling  off  of  the  nobil- 
ity and  gentry,  who  avow  to  have  no 
other  end  than  to  prevail  with  the  King 
to  secure  their  religion,  which  they  saw 
so  much  in  danger  by  the  violent  coun- 
sels of  the  Priests,  who,  to  promote 
their  own  religion,  did  not  care  to  what 
dangers  they  exposed  the  King. 

I  am  fully  persuaded  that  the  Prince 
of  Orange  designs  the  King's  safety 
and  preservation,  and  hope  all  things 
may  be  composed  without  more  blood- 
shed, by  the  calling  of  a  Parliament. 


1 86      The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary 


God  grant  an  happy  end  to  these 
troubles,  that  the  King's  reign  may  be 
prosperous,  and  that  I  may  shortly 
meet  you  in  perfect  peace  and  safety ; 
till  when,  let  me  beg  of  you  to  continue 
the  same  favorable  opinion  that  you 
have  hitherto  had  of 

Your  most  obedient  daughter 
and  servant 

Anne. 

Reresby" s  Memoirs — continued. 
December  i. 

I  got  to  Thrybergh  with  my  horses 
and  arms  without  any  disturbance,  and 
I  thank  God  I  left  York  without  any 
clamor  or  reflection  upon  me  in  the 
least  in  the  matter  of  my  command. 
December  3rd. 

Kingston-upon-Hull — that  consider- 
able garrison,  and  looked  upon  as  one 
of  the  strongest  in  England,  both  for 
the  citadel,  its  situation  and  number  of 
men — was  surprised  by  Mr.  Copley, 
lieutenant  governor  .  .  .  and  the  sol- 
diers joining  in  the  treachery,  they 
declared  for  the  Prince,  and  the  Protes- 
tant religion,  giving  immediately  notice 
to  the  gentlemen  at  York  what  was 
done.  If  such  places  as  this  revolted, 
it  was  no  wonder  that  York  could  not 
be  kept.-  ...  In  that  part  of  York- 
shire where  I  lived  very  few  gentlemen 
continued  firm  to  the  King  ;  nor,  indeed, 
in  any  part  of  the  North  of  England. 


7.  Letter  of  Lord  Dartmouth  to 
James  II.  (In  nth  Report  of  Royal 
MSS.  Commission,  Appendix  5.) 

Dec.  3,  1688.  Aboard  the 
Resolution  at  Spitthead. 
.  .  .  As  ...  a  faithful  servant 
subject  and  councellor,  I  beg  leave  to 
advise  you  and  to  give  you  my  humble 
opinion  that  sending  away  the  Prince 
of  Wales  without  the  consent  of  the 
nation  is  at  no  time  advisable,  and 
therefore  the  doing  it  at  this  time  es- 


pecially, and  that  to  France,  being  what 
I  dread  will  be  of  fatal  consequence  to 
your  person,  crowne  and  dignity,  and 
all  your  people  will  (too  probably) 
grow  so  much  concerned  at  this  your 
great  mistrust  as  to  throw  off  their 
bounden  allegiance  to  you,  which  God 
forbid ;  wherefore,  pray,  Sir,  consider 
farther  on  this  weightie  point,  for  can 
the  Prince' s  being  sent  to  France  have 
other  prospect  then  the  entaileing  a 
perpetuall  wai-re  upon  your  nation  and 
posterity,  and  giving  France  always  a 
temptation  to  molest,  invade,  nay  haz- 
ard the  conquest  of  England,  which  I 
hope  in  God  never  to  see,  but  that  we 
may  have  this  prince  of  your  own  loines 
to  rule  over  us.  .  .  .  Pardon  me,  there- 
fore, Sir,  that  I  most  earnestly  implore 
you  not  to  make  me  the  unhappy  in- 
strument of  so  apparent  ruine  to  your 
Majestie,  and  my  countrey  as  an  act  of 
this  kinde  will  be.   .    .    . 

Letters  to  John  Ellis  —  continued. 
Dec.  11,  1688. 
Dear  Friend :  I  am  now  to  tell  you 
that  the  Queen  and  Prince  of  Wales 
went  down  the  River  yesterday  morn- 
ing, and  'tis  believed  gone  for  France, 
and  the  King  went  this  morning  about 
the  same  time  ;  I  hear  hardly  anybody 
with  him.  God  preserve  him  in  health. 
But  here  all  people  are  wondering. 
The  Prince  of  Orange  will  be  in  Ox- 
ford this  night.  The  people  in  the  city 
are  searching  all  Roman-Catholic  houses 
for  arms  and  ammunition  :  and  this  day 
they  are  about  the  Strand  and  other 
places.  The  Duke  of  Northumbei'land 
has  put  out  all  Papists  out  of  his  Troop 
of  Guards,  and  so  they  say  they  will 
out  of  all  the  army.  The  King's  party, 
which  I  hear  was  Colonel  Butler's  dra- 
goons, and  the  Prince's,  had  a  skirmish. 
'Tis  said  about  fifty  of  the  King's  were 
killed.  .  .  .  This  night  I  was  fright- 
ened with  the  wonderful  light    in    the: 


The  Coming  of  William  and   Mary       187 


sky,  and  'twas  the  rabble  had  gotten 
the  wainscot  and  seats  of  a  Popish 
Chapel  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  and  set 
it  on  fire  in  the  middle  of  it.  Until  we 
knew  what  it  was  we  guessed  it  to  be  a 
great  fire.  Here  is  a  very  great  guard, 
both  militia  and  the  army.  You  will 
hear  very  suddenly  all  declaring  for  the 
Prince  of  Orange.  .  .  .  My  wife  and 
all  in  St.  James's  send  hearty  service 
to  you.  I  hope  I  may  see  you  in  the 
Spring.     God  send  us  a  good  meeting. 

Dec.  13,  1688. 
.  .  .  On  Tuesday  night  there  was  an 
alarm,  occasioned  by  burning  the  Pa- 
pist's Lincoln's  Inn  Field's  Chapel; 
they  did  the  like  to  the  Chapels  of  St. 
John's  Clerkenwell,  and  Lime-street, 
but  not  easily  breaking  into  the  latter, 
cried  they  would  down  with  it,  were  it 
as  strong  as  Portsmouth,  and,  accord- 
ingly, having  levelled  them,  they  car- 
ried all  the  trumpery  in  mock  proces- 
sion and  triumph,  with  oranges  on  the 
tops  of  swords  and  staves,  with  great 
lighted  candles  in  gilt  candlesticks,  thus 
victoriously  passing  of  the  Guards  that 
were  drawn  up.  And  after  having  be- 
queathed these  trinkets  to  the  flames, 
they  visited  Harry  Hill's  Printing 
House,  which  they  served  in  like  man- 
ner. But,  what  is  most  ungrateful, 
their  execution  reaching  to  the  Spanish 
Ambassador's  house,  which  they  plun- 
dered of  all  its  rich  furniture,  plate, 
money,  and  three  coaches,  to  the  value 
as  is  computed  of  £20,000.  .  .  .  The 
King  is  said  to  have  left  a  Paper  behind 
him  directed  to  the  Earl  of  Feversham, 
for  him  to  disband  the  army,  which  his 
Lordship  read  at  the  head  of  most  regi- 
ments, and  accordingly  disbanded  them, 
some  with,  others  without  their  arms, 
and  it  is  dismal  to  think  what  will  be- 
come of  such  vast  numbers  of  poor 
wretches,  if  the  Prince's  mercy  and  the 
people's  compassion  be  not  extraordi- 


nary. .  .  .  The  Prince  is  expected  in 
town  to-morrow.  About  two  this 
morning  an  alarm  was  spread  through 
city  and  suburbs,  of  Rise,  Arme,  Arme, 
the  Irish  are  cutting  throats  ;  in  so  much 
that  in  half  an  hour's  time  there  was 
an  appearance  of  above  an  hundred 
thousand  men  to  have  made  head 
against  any  enterprise  of  that  nature ; 
all  the  windows  of  the  houses  being 
lighted  with  candles  from  top  to  bot- 
tom ;  but  these  terrors  were  quickly 
over,  upon  notice  that  the  Prince  of 
Orange's  advance-guard  was  near  the 
town. 

Lord  Dartmouth  to  Lord  Feversham. 

Dec.  14. 
I  received  your  Lordship's  and  can- 
not wonder  at  the  consternation  your 
Lordship  is  in,  for  my  owne  heart  has 
been  allmost  breaking.  Oh  God,  what 
could  make  our  master  desert  his  king- 
doms and  his  friends,  certainely  nobody 
could  be  so  villainous  as  to  hurt  his 
person ;  it  cannot  be  the  effect  of  his 
owne  thoughts,  but  of  womanish  or 
timorous  councells.  God  Almighty 
protect  him  and  direct  him  to  happier 
measures.  I  am  sure  his  owne  heart 
cannot  meane  him  better  than  I  do.  .  .  . 
I  and  my  family  are  the  miserablsst 
creatures  His  Majestie  hath  left  behind. 
I  am  worthy  nobody's  thoughts,  but 
tho'  I  am  unfortunate  yett  I  am,  etc. 

Lord  Dartmouth  to  James  IL. 

Dec.  17. 
It  is  impossible  for  me  to  express  the 
griefe  and  anxious  cares  I  am  in  for 
your  Majestie,  and  the  newes  of  your 
withdrawing  was  the  greatest  surprise 
of  my  life,  for  I  did  humbly  hope  my 
dutyfull  supplications  to  your  Majestie 
would  with  your  owne  considerate 
thoughtes  have  wholly  altered  your 
intentions  of  sending  away  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  and  did  thinke  it  impossible 


1 88        The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary 


ever  to  enter  into  anybody's  thoughts 
that  had  the  least  inclination  of  duty  to 
your  Majestie  to  give  you  so  pernicious 
and  destructive  council  as  to  go  away 
yourselfe,  and  if  your  Majestie  had 
been  drove  to  such  a  desperate  course 
(which  was  morally  impossible,  at  least 
in  my  thoughts)  as  to  absent  yourselfe, 
Sir,  could  you  have  been  with  more 
honour  and  safety  [any  where  than  in] 
your  owne  fleet,  who  would  always 
unanimously  (I  dare  say)  have  pro- 
tected and  defended  your  sacred  person 
from  any  violence  or  unhallowed  hands. 
But  this  looks  like  so  great  mistrust  of 
me  that  many  could  witness  it  hath 
almost  broke  my  heart. 

Your  Majestie  knows  what  condition 
you  left  the  fleet  in,  and  me  in  the  most 
unsupportable  calamity  of  my  ife  what 
could  I  do  but  send  to  the  Prince  of 
Orange  when  I  found  the  whole  nation 
did,  and  receive  orders  from  the  Lords 
which  were  communicated  to  the  fleet 
and  removed  all  Roman  Catholic  Offi- 
cers. I  have  had  yett  no  returne  from 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  but  I  hope  all 
will  end  in  your  Majestie' s  happy  re- 
establishment.  Mr.  Pepys  will  ac- 
quaint your  Majestie  with  the  state  of 
the  fleet. 

Letters  to  John  Ellis. 

Dec.  iS. 

.  .  .  Last  night  the  King  went  off 
from  Court,  and  this  day  about  three 
o'clock  the  Prince  arrived  at  St.  James's 
with  great  acclamations  of  joy  and 
huzzas. 

The  Gentleman  that  writeth  the 
News  Letters  being  indisposed  desires 
to  be  excused  for  writing  not  this  day. 
Dec.  20th. 

The  Prince  of  Orange  remains  at  St. 
James's,  where  no  great  business  were 
done  yesterday  by  reason  of  paying 
and  receiving  visits ;  only  a  regiment 
was  sent  to  possess  themselves  of  the 


Tower ;  most  of  the  Bishops  about 
the  town  were  with  his  Highness ;  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk  came  and  paid  his 
devoirs.  The  Prince  in  the  afternoon 
went  to  Whitehall,  and  from  thence, 
in  the  Queen's  barge,  to  Somerset 
House  to  compliment  the  Queen 
Dowager.  In  his  return  hearing  that 
the  Prince  and  Princess  of  Denmark 
were  come  to  town,  he  called  to  see 
them  at  the  Cock-pit.   .   .   . 


8.  Letter  of  James  II.  to  the  Lords 
Spiritual  and  Temporal.  (In  the  12th 
Report,  6th  Appendix,  of  the  Royal 
MSS.  Commission.) 

Rochester,  Dec.  22nd,  1688. 
My  Lords  .  .  .  The  world  cannot 
wonder  at  my  withdrawing  myself  now 
this  second  tyme.  I  might  have  ex- 
pected somewhat  better  usage  after 
what  I  writ  to  the  Prince  of  Orange  by 
my  Lord  Feversham  and  the  instruc- 
tions I  gave  him.  But  instead  of  an 
answer  what  was  I  not  to  expect  after 
the  usage  I  receaved  by  making  the 
said  Earl  a  Prisoner  against  the  Prac- 
tice and  law  of  nations?  The  sending 
his  own  guards  at  eleven  at  night  to 
take  possession  of  the  Posts  at  White- 
hall without  advertizing  me  in  the  least 
manner  of  it.  The  sending  to  me  at 
one  a  'clock  after  midnight,  when  I  was 
in  bed,  a  kind  of  an  order  by  three  Lords 
to  be  gone  out  of  myne  own  Palace 
before  twelve  that  same  morning.  After 
all  this,  how  could  I  hone  to  be  safe, 
so  long  as  I  was  in  the  power  of  one, 
who  had  not  only  done  this  to  me,  and 
invaded  my  kingdomes  without  any  just 
occasion  given  him  for  it,  but  that  did 
by  his  first  declaration  lay  the  greatest 
aspersion  upon  me  that  malice  could 
invent  in  that  clause  of  it  which  con- 
cerns my  son?  I  appeal  to  all  that 
know  me,  nay  even  to  himself  that  in 
their  consciences  neither  he  nor  they 
can  beleeve  me  in  the  least  capable  of 


The  Coming  of  William  and   Mary        189 


so  unnatural  a  villany,  nor  of  so  little 
common  sense.    .   .    . 

What  had  I  then  to  expect  from  one 
who  by  all  arts  hath  taken  such  pains 
to  make  me  appear  as  black  as  hell  to 
my  own  people  as  well  as  to  all  the 
world  besydes  ?  What  effect  that  hath 
had  at  home  all  mankind  have  seen  by 
so  general  a  defection  in  my  army,  as 
well  as  in  the  nation  amongst  all  sorts 
of  people. 

I  was  born  free  and  desire  to  con- 
tinue so,  and  though  I  have  ventured 
my  lyfe  very  frankly  on  severall  occa- 
sions, for  the  good  and  honour  of  my 
country  ...  yet  I  think  it  not  con- 
venient to  expose  myself  to  be  secured 
so  as  not  to  be  at  liberty  to  effect 
it.   .   .   . 

Letters  to  John  Ellis. 

Dec.  29th. 
.  .  .  The  King  landed  on  Tuesday 
morning  near  Marques  and  went  post 
to  Paris  on  Wednesday.  I  cannot  see 
who  your  government  will  fall  to ;  1 
think  neither  our  friend  nor  the  pert 
pretender.  ...  I  know  not  what  will 
be  my  lot,  but  I  am  vain  enough  to 
think  in  a  general  bustle  I  shall  shift 
for  one.  You  will  pardon  me  that  I 
say  no  more. 

Reresby  s  Memoirs. 

January  22nd. 
I  went  to  Mansfield,  and  the  next 
day  went  thence  for  London  in  the 
hackney  coach.  When  I  arrived  I 
found  London  much  changed.  The 
guards  and  other  parts  of  the  army, 
which  both  in  their  persons  and  gal- 
lantry were  an  ornament  to  the  town, 
were  sent  to  quarter  ten  miles  off,  and 
the  streets  were  filled  with  ill-look- 
ing and  ill-habited  Dutch  and  other 
strangers  of  the  prince' s  army ;  and  yet 
the  city  was  so  pleased  with  their  de- 
liverers that  thev  did  not  or  would  not 


perceive  their  deformity,  nor  the  op- 
pression they  lay  under,  which  was 
much  greater  than  what  they  felt  from 
the  English  army.   .   .   . 

Feb.  3rd. 
I  saw  the  Duke  of  Somerset,  the 
Earl  of  Burlington,  the  Earl  of  Scars- 
dale  and  some  other  lords  who  had  all 
been  active  to  bring  in  the  prince, 
speak  in  another  strain.  Some  said 
the  thing  was  gone  further  than  they 
expected,  others  that  they  never  be- 
lieved the  prince  would  contend  for  the 
crown ;  and  all  were  of  opinion  the 
crown  ought  to  be  set  on  the  princess's 
head,  and  so  to  descend  in  its  right 
course.  The  Earl  of  Scarsdale  told 
me  the  Princess  of  Denmark  was  very 
sensible  what  a  mistake  she  had  com- 
mitted in  leaving  her  father  to  join  the 
prince,  who  was  now  endeavoring  to 
invade  her  right,  and  to  get  priority  of 
succession  before  her. 


9.  Extracts  from  Evelyn. 

Jan.  15th,  1688-9. 
The  greate  Convention  [of  bishops] 
being  assembled  the  day  before,  falling 
upon  the  question  about  the  Govern- 
ment, resolved  that  King  James  having 
by  the  advice  of  the  Jesuits  and  other 
wicked  persons  endeavour' d  to  subvert 
the  laws  of  Church  and  State,  and 
deserted  the  kingdom,  carrying  away 
the  seals  etc.  without  any  care  for  the 
management  of  the  government,  had 
by  demise  abdicated  himself  and  wholly 
vacated  his  right ;  they  did  therefore 
desire  the  Lords  concurrence  to  their 
vote,  to  place  the  crown  on  the  next 
heir,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  for  his  life, 
then  to  the  Princesse  his  wife,  and  if 
she  died  without  issue,  to  the  Prin- 
cesse of  Denmark,  and  she  failing,  to 
the  heirs  of  the  Prince,  excluding  for- 
ever all  possibility  of  admitting  a. 
Roman  Catholic. 


190       The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary 


Feb.  6th. 

The  King's  coronation  day  was 
ordered  not  to  be  observed,  as  hitherto 
it  had  ben. 

The  Convention  of  the  Lords  and 
Commons  now  declare  the  Prince  and 
Princess  of  Orange  King  and  Queene 
of  England,  France,  and  Ireland, 
(Scotland  being  an  independent  king- 
dom,) the  Prince  and  Princesse  being 
to  enjoy  it  jointly  during  their  lives, 
but  the  executive  authority  to  be  vested 
in  the  Prince  during  life,  tho'  all  pro- 
ceedings to  run  in  both  names,  and  that 
it  should  descend  to  their  issue,  and  for 
want  of  such,  to  the  Princesse  Anne 
of  Denmark  and  her  issue,  and  in  want 
of  such,  to  the  heirs  of  the  body  of  the 
Prince  if  he  survive,  and  that  failing, 
to  devolve  to  the  Parliament  as  they 
should  think  fit.  .  .  .  There  was  much 
contest  about  the  King's  abdication,  and 
whether  he  had  vacated  the  govern- 
ment. The  Earle  of  Nottingham  and 
about  twenty  Lords,  and  many  Bishops 
entered  their  protests,  but  the  concur- 
rence was  greate  against  them. 

The  Princess  hourly  expected. 
Forces  sending  to  Ireland,  that  king- 
dom being  in  greate  danger  by  the 
Earle  of  Tyrconnell's  army,  and 
expectations  from  France  coming  to 
assist  them,  but  that  King  was  busy 
in  invading  Flanders,  and  encounter- 
ing the  German  Princes.  It  is  likely 
that  this  will  be  the  most  remarkable 
summer  for  action,  which  has  hap- 
pened for  many  years. 

Reresby. 

Feb.  nth. 
.  .  .  The  oaths  of  allegiance  and 
supremacy  were  then  desired  by  the 
Houses  to  be  suppressed,  and  these  two 
were  framed  to  be  taken  in  their  stead  : 
"  I,  A.  B.,  do  sincerely  promise  and 
swear  that  I  will  be  faithful  and  bear 
true  allegiance  to  their  Majesties  King 


William  and    Queen    Mary.      So    help 
me  God."     For  the  second,  thus  : — 

"  I,  A.  B.,  do  swear  that  I  do  from 
my  heart  abhor,  detest,  and  abjme  as 
impious  and  heretical  that  damnable 
doctrine  and  position  that  princes 
excommunicated  or  deprived  by  the 
Pope  or  any  authority  of  the  see  of 
Rome,  may  be  deposed  or  murdered, 
by  their  subjects  or  any  other  whatso- 
ever ;  and  I  do  declare  that  no  foreign 
prince,  person,  prelate  or  state  hath, 
or  ought  to  have  any  jurisdiction, 
power,  superiority,  pre-eminence  or 
authority,  ecclesiastical  or  civil,  within 
this  realm.     So  help  me  God." 

April  nth  was  the  day  of  the 
coronation  of  King  William  and  Queen 
Mary,  performed  with  great  splen- 
dor according  to  the  usual  ceremo- 
nies. The  procession  to  the  abbey 
of  Westminster  was  very  regular,  but 
not  attended  by  so  many  of  the  nobility 
as  when  the  two  last  kings  were 
crowned.  The  House  of  Commons 
were  taken  great  care  of  in  this  solem- 
nity, had  a  side  of  Westminster  Hall 
prepared  for  them  to  see  it,  another 
place  in  the  abbey  to  see  their  Majesties 
crowned,  and  several  tables  prepared 
and  covered  with  all  sorts  of  meat, 
where  they  dined  by  themselves.  Only 
some  friends  were  admitted  amongst 
them,  and  I  amongst  others,  which 
gave  me  a  good  opportunity  to  see  and 
observe  all.  The  Bishop  of  London 
crowned  the  King  and  Queen,  assisted 
by  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury  (the  late 
Dr.  Burnet),  who  preached  the  Coro- 
nation sermon,  and  by  two  others. 

May  5th. 
.  .  .  The  next  day  I  was  to  go  to 
Hampton  Court  to  meet  his  lordship, 
to  present  me  to  the  King  before  I 
went  into  the  country ;  and  he  repeated 
his  promises  of  doing  for  me  what  he 
could,  but  said  it  was  discretion  to  let 


The  Coming  of  William  and  Mary       191 


two  or  three  months  pass  before  I 
pressed  the  thing  too  much,  to  see 
what  became  of  things. 

(On  the  12th  of  May,  Sir  John 
Reresby  died.) 

Evelyn. 

Feb.  2 1  st,  1688-9. 

Dr.  Burnett  preach' d  at  St.  James's 
on  the  obligation  to  walk  worthy  of 
God's  particular  and  signal  deliverance 
of  the  Nation  and  Church. 

I  saw  the  new  Queene  and  King 
proclaim' d  the  very  next  day  after  her 
coming  to  Whitehall,  Wednesday  13 
Feb.,  with  greate  acclamation  and  gen- 
erall  good  reception.  Bonfires,  bells, 
guns,  etc.  It  was  believ'd  that  both, 
especially  the  Princesse,  would  have 
shew'd  some  (seeming)  i-eluctance  at 
least,  of  assuming  her  father's  Crown, 
and  made  some  apology,  testifying  by 
her  regret  that  he  should  by  his  mis- 
management necessitate  the  Nation  to 
so  extraordinary  a  proceeding,  which 
would  have  shew'd  very  handsomely 
to  the  world,  and  according  to  the 
character  given  of  her  piety ;  conso- 
nant also  to  her  husband's  first  declara- 
tion, that  there  was  no  intention  of 
deposing  the  King,  but  of  succouring 
the  Nation ;  but  nothing  of  all  this 
appear' d;  she  came  into  Whitehall 
laughing  and  jolly,  as  to  a  wedding, 
so  as  to  seem  quite  transported.  She 
rose  early  the  next  morning,  and  in  her 
undresse,  as  it  was  reported,  before  her 
women  were  up,  went  about  from 
roome  to  roome  to  see  the  convenience 
of  White-hall ;  lay  in  the  same  bed 
and  apartment  where  the  late  Queene 
lay,  and  within  a  night  or  two  sate 
downe  to  play  at  basset,  as  the  Queene, 
her  predecessor,  used  to  do.  She 
smil'd  upon  and  talk'd  to  every  body, 
so  that  no  change  seem'd  to  have  taken 
place  at  Court  since  her  last  going 
away,  save  that  infinite  crowds  of  peo- 
ple throng' d  to  see  her,  and  that  she 


went  to  our  prayers.  This  carriage 
was  censur'd  by  many.  She  seems  to 
be  of  a  good  nature,  and  that  she  takes 
nothing  to  heart;  whilst  the  Prince 
her  husband  has  a  thoughtful  counte- 
nance, is  wonderfull  serious  and  silent, 
and  seems  to  treat  all  persons  alike 
gravely,  and  to  be  very  intent  on  af- 
faires :  Holland,  Ireland  and  France 
calling  for  his  care. 

Divers  Bishops  and  Noblemen  are 
not  at  all  satisfied  with  this  so  sudden 
assumption  of  the  Crown,  without  any 
previous  sending,  and  offering  some 
conditions  to  the  absent  King ;  or,  on 
his  not  returning,  or  not  assenting  to 
those  conditions,  to  have  proclaim' d 
him  Regent ;  but  the  major  part  of 
both  Houses  prevail' d  to  make  them 
King  and  Queene  immediately,  and  a 
Crowne  was  tempting. 


Extract  from  Burnet. 


:688. 


All  things  were  now  made  ready  for 
filling  the  throne.  And  the  very  night 
before  it  was  to  be  done,  the  princess 
arrived  safely.  It  had  been  given  out, 
that  she  was  not  well  pleased  with  the 
late  transaction,  both  with  relation  to 
her  father,  and  to  the  present  settle- 
ment. Upon  which  the  prince  wrote 
to  her,  that  it  was  necessary  she  should 
appear  at  first  so  cheerful,  that  nobody 
might  be  discouraged  by  her  looks,  or 
be  led  to  apprehend  that  she  was  un- 
easy by  reason  of  what  had  been  done. 
This  made  her  put  on  a  great  air  of 
gaiety  when  she  came  to  Whitehall,  and, 
as  may  be  imagined,  had  great  crowds 
of  all  sorts  coming  to  wait  on  her.  I 
confess,  I  was  one  of  those  that  cen- 
sured this  in  my  thoughts.  I  thought 
a  little  more  seriousness  had  done  as 
well,  when  she  came  into  her  father's 
palace,  and  was  to  be  set  on  his  throne 
next  day.  I  had  never  seen  the  least 
indecency  in    any  part  of    her  deport- 


192        The   Coming  of  William   and    Mary 


ment  before  :  which  made  this  appear 
to  me  so  extraordinary,  that  some  days 
after  I  took  the  liberty  to  ask  her,  how 
it  came  that  what  she  saw  in  so  sad  a 
revolution,  as  to  her  father's  person, 
made  not  a  greater  impression  on  her. 
She  took  this  freedom  with  her  usual 
goodness.     And    she    assured    me,  she 


felt  the  sense  of  it  very  lively  upon  her 
thoughts.  But  she  told  me,  that  the 
letters  which  had  been  writ  to  her  had 
obliged  her  to  put  on  a  cheerfulness,  in 
which  she  might  perhaps  go  too  far, 
because  she  was  obeying  directions, 
and  acting  a  part  which  was  not  very 
natural  to  her. 


GROUP    XXI. 

THE    STUARTS    IN    EXILE. 


i.  Letters  of  Madame  de  Sevigne. 
Vol.  7.  (Edition  in  English,  London, 
181 1.  The  passages  in  brackets  from 
the  latest  French  Edition.} 

Paris,  Nov.  8,  1688. 

This  is  the  day,  my  dear  child,  on 
which  you  are  to  begin  your  journey ; 
we  follow  you  step  by  step.  .  .  .  ./Jhe 
chevalier  is  much  better.  It  is  painful 
to  reflect  that  the  weather  which  agrees 
with  him,  is  precisely  what  may  de- 
throne the  King  of  England ;  whereas 
he  suffered  dreadfully  a  few  days  ago, 
when  the  wind  and  tempests  were  dis- 
persing the  fleet  of  the  prince  of 
Orange :  he  is  unhappy  at  not  being 
able  to  make  his  health  accord  with  the 
good  of  Europe ;  for  the  sentiment  of 
joy  is  universal  at  the  failure  of  the 
prince,  whose  wife  is  a  perfect  Tullia  : 
ah,  how  boldly  would  she  drive  over 
the  body  of  her  father !  She  has  em- 
powered her  husband  to  take  possession 
of  the  kingdom  of  England,  of  which 
she  calls  herself  the  heiress ;  and  if  her 
husband  is  killed,  for  her  imagination 
is  not  very  delicate,  M.  de  Schomberg 
is  to  take  possession  of  it  for  herself. 
What  say  you  to  a  hero,  who  so  sadly 
disgraces  the  close  of  a  glorious  life? 
lie  saw  the  admiral's  ship  sink  in 
which  he  was  to  have  embarked  ;  and 
as  the  prince  and  he  were  the  last  in 
following  the  fleet,  which  was  under 
weigh    in   the    finest  weather  possible. 


they  were  obliged,  by  a  tremendous 
storm  that  suddenly  arose,  to  return  to 
port,  the  prince  being  very  much  indis- 
posed with  his  asthma,  and  M.  de 
Schomberg  as  much  vexed.  Only 
twenty-six  sail  returned  with  them  :  the 
rest  were  all  dispersed,  some  towards 
-H^rway,  others  towards  Boulogne. 
.  .  .  A  vessel  armed  en  jlute,  in  which 
were  nine  hundred  men,  sunk  in  sight 
of  the  prince  of  Orange.  (  ?)  In  short, 
the  hand  of  God  is  visible  on  this  fleet : 
many  ships  may  return,  but  it  will  be 
long  before  they  will  be  able  to  do  any 
mischief.  .  .  .  This  is  certainly  a 
stroke  of  Providence.  I  need  not  say 
so  much  to  you  of  this  great  news,  for 
the  papers  are  full  of  it ;  but  as  we  are 
so  too,  and  as  we  can  talk  of  nothing 
else,  it  flows  naturally  from  my  pen. 

Paris,  Jan.  10,  1689. 
The  abbe  Tetu  is  in  an  alarming 
way  for  want  of  sleep.  .  .  .  We  want 
him  to  go  to  Versailles  to  see  the  king 
and  queen  of  England,  and  the  prince 
of  Wales.  Can  there  be  a  grander 
spectacle,  or  one  more  capable  of 
affording  the  highest  interest?  It 
appears  that  the  prince  of  Orange 
favoured  the  king's  flight.  The  king 
was  sent  to  Exeter,  where  it  was  his 
intention  to  go ;  the  front  of  his  house 
was  well  guarded,  and  all  the  back- 
doors left  open.     The  prince  was  not 


Mary  bkatrix  Qi  kkn  of  -Kngland 

Scotland    lu,\\(t:    and  Ireland 

Bouts      Princes      ok       Mudkn  \ 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


193 


inclined  to  sacrifice  his  father-in-law  ; 
he  remains  in  London  in  the  place  of 
the  king,  without  taking  upon  himself 
the  title,  being  only  desirous  of  restor- 
ing what  he  thinks  the  true  religion, 
and  supporting  the  laws  of  the  country, 
without  spilling  a  drop  of  blood  :  this 
is  precisely  the  reverse  of  what  we 
thought  of  him  ;  we  see  him  in  a  very 
different  point  of  view.  Our  king 
however  acts  in  a  manner  almost 
divine  with  respect  to  their  Britannic 
majesties ;  for  is  it  not  being  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  Almighty,  to  support  a 
king  banished,  betrayed,  and  aban- 
doned? The  noble  ambition  of  our 
sovereign  is  gratified  by  acting  this 
part ;  he  went  to  meet  the  queen,  with 
all  his  household,  and  a  hundred 
coaches  and  six.  When  he  perceived 
the  prince  of  Wales's  carriage,  he 
alighted  and  [would  not  let  this  little 
child,  who  is  beautiful  as  an  angel, 
they  say,  dismount ;  he]  affectionately 
embraced  him ;  he  then  ran  to  the 
queen,  who  was  by  this  time  alighted  ; 
he  saluted  her,  talked  with  her  some 
time,  placed  her  at  his  right  hand  in 
his  carriage,  and  presented  the  dauphin 
and  Monsieur  to  her,  who  were  also  in 
the  carriage,  and  conducted  her  to  St. 
Germain,  where  she  found  everything 
prepared  for  her  like  a  queen,  all  sorts 
of  apparel,  and  a  rich  casket  containing 
six  thousand  louis-d'ors.  The  king  of 
England  was  expected  the  next  day  at 
St.  Germain,  where  the  king  waited 
for  him  ;  he  arrived  late  [because  he 
came  from  Versailles]  :  his  majesty 
went  to  the  end  of  the  guard-room  to 
meet  him  ;  the  king  of  England  made 
an  inclination,  as  if  to  embrace  his 
knees,  but  the  king  prevented  him  and 
embraced  him  three  or  four  times  very 
coidially.  They  talked  together  in  a 
low  voice  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour ;  the  king  presented  the  dauphin 
and  Monsieur  to  him,  the    princes    of 


the  blood,  and  cardinal  de  Bonzi.  He 
conducted  him  to  the  queen's  apart- 
ment, who  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
tears ;  after  a  conversation  of  a  few 
minutes  his  majesty  led  them  to  the 
apartment  of  the  prince  of  Wales, 
where  they  again  conversed  for  some 
time,  and  he  then  withdrew,  not  choos- 
ing to  be  attended  back,  saying  to  the 
king,  "This  is  your  house;  when  I 
come  you  will  do  the  honours  of  it,  and- 
I  will  do  the  honours  of  mine  when 
you  come  to  Versailles."  The  next 
day,  which  was  yesterday,  the  dau- 
phinness  went  there  with  all  the 
court.  [I  know  not  how  they  will 
have  managed  with  the  chairs  for  the 
princesses ;  they  had  them  at  the  wed- 
ding of  the  Queen  of  Spain]  ;  and  the 
queen-mother  of  England  was  treated 
as  a  daughter  of  France  ;  I  shall  [find 
out  and]  send  you  these  particulars. 
His  majesty  sent  the  king  of  England 
ten  thousand  louis-d'ors,  the  latter 
looks  old  and  fatigued ;  the  queen  is 
thin,  with  fine  black  eyes  swelled  with 
weeping  ;  a  fine  complexion  but  rather 
pale  ;  a  large  mouth,  beautiful  teeth,  a 
fine  figure,  and  a  great  share  of  sense ; 
no  wonder  if  with  all  these  she  pleases 
every  one  who  beholds  her.  Here 
[my  sweet  one]  is  matter  for  general 
conversation  that  will  not  soon  be 
exhausted.   .   .   . 

Jan.  1 2th,  1689. 
.  .  .  To  come  to  the  king  and  queen 
of  England,  It  is  so  extraordinary  to 
have  this  court  here,  that  it  is  the  con- 
stant subject  of  conversation.  The 
regulation  of  rank  and  precedency  is 
to  be  attended  to,  in  order  to  render 
life  agreeable  to  those  who  are  so  un- 
likely to  be  restored.  This"  the  king 
said  the  other  day,  adding,  that  the 
English  king  was  the  best  man  in  the 
world  ;  that  he  should  hunt  with  him  ; 
that  he  should  come  to  Marli  and  Tri- 
anon ;     and    that   the    courtiers    should 


194 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


habituate  themselves  to  him.  The 
king  of  England  does  not  give  his 
hand  to  the  dauphin,  and  does  not 
reconduct  him.  The  queen  has  not 
kissed  Monsieur,  who  is  offended  at 
this;  she  said  to  the  king,  "Tell  me 
what  you  wish  me  to  do  ;  if  you  would 
have  me  follow  the  French  fashion,  I 
will  salute  whom  you  please ;  but  it  is 
not  the  custom  in  England  to  salute 
any  one."  She  paid  a  visit  to  the 
dauphiness,  who  was  ill,  and  who  re- 
ceived her  in  bed.  No  one  sits  in 
England ;  I  believe  the  duchesses  will 
follow  the  French  fashion,  and  behave 
to  her  as  they  did  to  her  mother-in-law 
[Henrietta  Maria].  We  are  greatly 
taken  up  with  this  new  court.  .  .  . 
Jan.  14th,  1689. 
.  .  .  Madame  de  Maintenon  is  much 
pleased  with  the  comedy  which  she  has 
made  her  young  ladies  of  St.  Cyr 
perform  ;  it  will  be  a  very  fine  piece 
according  to  report.  She  has  paid  a 
visit  to  the  Queen  of  England,  who, 
having  made  her  wait  a  moment,  said 
she  was  very  sorry  she  had  lost  any 
time  in  seeing  and  conversing  with 
her,  and  received  her  extremely  well. 
Everyone  is  pleased  with  this  queen; 
she  has  an  excellent  understanding. 
She  said  to  the  king,  on  seeing  him 
caress  the  prince  of  Wales,  who  is  a 
lovely  child,  "I  formerly  envied  the 
happiness  of  my  son,  in  not  feeling  his 
misfortunes;  but  I  now  pity  him,  for 
being  insensible  to  your  majesty's  ca- 
resses and  kindness."  All  she  says  is 
proper  and  to  the  purpose ;  but  this  is 
not  the  case  with  her  husband  :  he  has 
a  great  share  of  courage,  but  his  un- 
derstanding is  not  above  the  common 
standard ;  he  relates  what  has  passed 
in  England  with  an  insensibility  that 
excites  the  same  feeling  for  himself. 
He  is  a  good  man  .["  what  a  good 
man,"  said  the  Archbishop  of  Rheims ; 
"  he  has  given  up  thi-ee  kingdoms  for 


one  mass." — Ed.],  and  partakes  of  all 
the  amusements  of  Versailles.  The 
dauphiness  does  not  intend  to  visit  this 
queen  ;  she  wants  her  right-hand  seat 
and  chair  of  state,  which  cannot  be ; 
she  will  therefore  be  always  in  bed, 
when  the  queen  visits  her.  Madame 
is  to  have  an  arm-chair  upon  the  left 
hand,  and  the  princesses  of  the  blood 
are  to  visit  with  her ;  before  whom 
they  have  tabourets  only.  The  duch- 
esses will  be  upon  the  same  footing 
as  at  the  dauphiness' s ;  this  is  settled. 
The  king,  knowing  that  a  king  of 
France  gave  a  prince  of  Wales  only 
a  chair  on  the  left  hand,  chooses  that 
the  king  of  England  should  treat  the 
dauphin  in  the  same  manner,  and  pre- 
cede him.  He  is  to  receive  Monsieur 
without  chair  or  ceremony.  The  queen 
has  saluted  him,  saying  to  our  sover- 
eign what  I  told  you.  It  is  not  yet 
certain  that  M.  de  Schomberg  is  to 
succeed  the  prince  of  Orange  in  Hol- 
land. This  is  a  year  of  falsehoods.  .  .  . 
Jan.  17,  16S9. 
This  English  court  is  quite  estab- 
lished at  St.  Germain.  They  would 
not  accept  more  than  15,000  livres  a 
month,  and  have  regulated  their  court 
upon  that  foundation.  The  queen  is 
very  much  liked ;  our  king  converses 
very  pleasantly  with  her ;  she  has  good 
sense  without  affectation.  The  king 
wished  the  dauphiness  to  pay  her  the 
first  visit,  but  she  was  always  so  con- 
veniently indisposed,  that  this  queen 
paid  her  a  visit  three  days  ago,  ad- 
mirably dressed  ;  a  black  velvet  robe, 
a  beautiful  petticoat,  her  hair  tastefully 
disposed,  a  figure  like  the  princess  de 
Conti's,  and  great  dignity  of  manner. 
The  king  received  her  as  she  alighted ; 
she  went  first  into  his  apartment  where 
she  had  a  chair  below  the  king's;  here 
she  remained  half  an  hour;  he  then 
conducted  her  to  the  dauphiness,  who 
was  up ;    this  occasioned   a   little  sur- 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


195 


prise;  the  queen  said  to  her,  "I 
expected  to  have  found  you  in  bed, 
madam."  "I  wished  to  rise,  madam," 
replied  the  dauphiness,  "to  receive  the 
honour  your  majesty  does  me."  The 
king  left  them,  as  the  dauphiness  has 
no  chair  in  his  presence.  The  queen 
took  her  place,  with  the  dauphiness  on 
her  right  hand,  Madame  on  her  left, 
.and  there  were  three  other  chairs  for 
the  young  princes.  They  conversed 
together  for  upwards  of  half  an  hour ; 
several  duchesses  were  present,  and  the 
court  was  very  numerous.  At  length 
she  retired ;  the  king  gave  orders  to 
be  informed  of  it,  and  handed  her  back 
to  her  carriage.  I  do  not  know  how 
far  the  dauphiness  went  with  her,  but 
I  shall  hear.  The  king,  upon  his  re- 
turn, highly  praised  the  queen;  he 
said,  "  This  is  how  a  queen  ought  to 
"be,  both  in  person  and  mind,  holding 
her  court  with  dignity,"  He  admired 
her  courage  in  misfortunes,  and  her 
affection  for  her  husband ;  for  it  is 
certain,  that  she  loves  him,  as  that  hate- 
ful woman,  madame  de  R.,  told  you. 
Some  of  our  ladies,  who  wished  to 
assume  the  airs  of  princesses,  did  not 
kiss  the  queen's  robe,  some  of  the 
duchesses  wished  to  avoid  it  also ;  but 
the  king  was  displeased  at  this,  and 
they  now  pay  her  homage.  Madame 
<le  Chaulnes  has  been  informed  of  these 
particulars,  but  has  not  yet  performed 
this  duty.  She  left  the  marquis  at 
Versailles,  the  young  gentleman  being 
very  highly  amused  there  ;  he  has  in- 
formed his  uncle  that  he  should  go 
to-day  to  the  ballet.   .   .   . 

Jan.  26. 
I  am  .  .  .  truly  of  opinion,  that  the 
king  and  queen  of  England  are  better 
off  at  St.  Germain,  than  in  their  perfidi- 
ous kingdom.  The  king  of  England 
calls  M.  de  Lauzun  his  governor ;  but 
he  governs  no  one  else,  and  is  not  much 
in  favour.     Their  majesties  have  only 


accepted  of  what  the  king  would  have 
given  them,  fifty  thousand  livres  a 
month,  and  will  not  live  like  sovereigns  ; 
many  English  are  come  over  to  them,  or 
they  would  not  have  accepted  so  much  ; 
in  short,  they  wish  to  pursue  a  plan  that 
may  last.  They  have  reminded  me  of 
my  dear  romances ;  but  a  little  intrigue 
is  wanting. 

Jan.  31,  1689. 

Madame  de  Chaulnes  has  seen  the 
queen  of  England,  with  whom  she  is 
greatly  pleased;  the  little  prince  was 
dressed  like  a  puppet ;  he  is  handsome 
and  lively,  and  is  continually  dancing  in 
his  nurse's  arms:  these  are  the  truly 
happy  days  of  infancy.  The  histories 
which  we  read  over  again  on  account  of 
this  event,  are  replete  with  the  perfidy 
of  the  people.  The  prince  of  Orange  is 
not  quite  at  his  ease  in  London,  there 
being  three  parties :  that  of  the  king 
and  the  bishops  which  is  very  weak  ; 
that  of  the  prince  of  Orange,  which  is 
very  strong ;  and  a  third  consisting  of 
republicans  and  non-conformists.  All 
Ireland  is  in  the  interest  of  the  king ;  he 
would  have  done  well  to  have  escaped 
thither  :  he  is  not  so  much  liked  as  the 
queen.  He  calls  M.  de  Lauzun  his 
master ;  the  master  stands  in  great  need 
of  one  himself.    .   .   . 

Feb.  2nd,  1689. 

.  .  .  The  queen  of  England  seems 
more  inclined,  if  it  pleased  God,  to 
reign  in  the  beautiful  kingdom  of  Eng- 
land, where  the  court  is  numerous  and 
splendid,  than  to  be  at  St.  Germain, 
though  overwhelmed  with  the  heroic 
bounties  of  our  monarch.  As  to  the 
king  of  England,  he  seems  contented 
there,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  he  is 
there. 

Extract  from  the  Me?noirs  of  James 
II.  (In  Macpherson,  Original  Papers, 
Vol.  I.  p  257.) 

I  thank  thee  O  God,  for  all  the 
favours  which  thou  hast  done  me ;   and 


196 


The   Stuarts  in   Exile 


particularly  for  having  saved  me  from 
the  hands  of  the  rebellious  parricides, 
who  put  to  death  the  King,  my  father. 
.  .  .  For  having  re-established  the  King 
my  brother  in  his  kingdoms,  and  for 
having  recovered  me  from  the  small- 
pox, which  some  years  before  had 
carried  off  some  of  the  royal  family. 
For  having  given  me  such  good  health 
and  patience  to  suffer  so  many  injuries, 
and  for  having  preserved  me  till  now 
from  all  the  snares  of  my  enemies.  For 
having  touched  my  heart  with  a  true 
sense  of  my  past  sins  and  a  regret  for 
them  ;  a  favour  which  I  beseech  God  to 
continue  to  me;  and  to  augment  in  me 
day  by  day  a  detestation  of  my  faults. 

And  above  all  I  thank  God  for  having 
opened  my  eyes  and  converted  me  to  the 
true  church. 

I  humbly  acknowledge  that  I  have 
justly  deserved  all  the  afflictions  and 
mortifications  which  it  hath  pleased 
God  to  send  upon  me  ;  and  that  I  would 
deserve  still  greater,  considering  the 
magnitude    and    multitude  of  my  sins. 

Madame  de  Sivigni. 

Feb.  23,  1689. 

.  .  .  That  madman,  the  prince  of 
Orange,  is  elected  king,  and  has  been 
crowned  :  the  contraiy  report  prevailed 
a  week  ago ;  but  thus  it  is  with  the 
English. 

Feb.  25,  1689. 

.  .  .  The  King  of  England  [James] 
is  going  over  to  Ireland ;  this,  at  least, 
is  the  report :  but  I  vouch  for  nothing 
this  year ;   it  is  the  harvest  of  lies.   .   .   . 

Feb.  28. 
...  It  is  certain  that  the  king  of 
England  set  out  this  morning  for  Ire- 
land, where  he  is  expected  with  im- 
patience :  he  will  be  better  there  than 
here.  He  will  traverse  Britany  with 
the  swiftness  of  lightning ;  and  go 
straight   to  Brest,  where   he  will    find 


marshal  d'Estrees,  and  ships  and  frigates 
ready  :  he  takes  with  him  50,000  crowns. 
The  King  has  given  him  sufficient  arms 
for  10,000  men.  As  his  Britannic 
majesty  took  leave,  he  said  with  a  smiler 
"  That  arms  for  himself  were  the  only 
things  that  had  been  forgotten:"  our 
king  gave  him  his :  the  heroes  of 
romance  never  did  anything  more  gal- 
lant than  this  action.  What  will  not 
this  brave  but  unhappy  king  do,  with 
arms  that  have  ever  been  victorious? 
Behold  him  then  with  the  casque  and 
cuirass  of  Rinoldo  and  Amadis,  and  all 
our  most  celebrated  knights  errant;  I 
will  not  say  of  Hector,  for  he  was  un- 
fortunate. There  is  not  an  offer  that 
can  be  suggested,  that  our  king  has  not 
made  him  ;  generosity  and  magnanimity 
have  been  carried  to  their  height.  M. 
d'Avaux  is  to  go  with  him  ;  he  set  out 
two  days  ago.  You  will  ask  why  M. 
de  Barillon  was  not  the  person.  The 
reason  is,  that  M.  d'Avaux,  being  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  the  affairs  of 
Holland,  will  be  more  useful  than  he 
who  is  acquainted  only  with  those  of 
England.  The  queen  has  shut  herself 
up  at  Poissi  with  her  son  :  she  will  be 
near  the  king,  and  the  fountain-head  of 
intelligence.  She  is  overwhelmed  with 
grief,  and  suffers  from  a  nephritic  com- 
plaint, that  makes  it  feared  she  has  the 
stone  :  she  is  really  to  be  pitied.  You 
see,  my  dear  child,  it  is  the  rage  of  talk- 
ing, that  makes  me  write  all  this ;  the 
chevalier  and  the  gazette  will  give  you 
better  information  than  I  can  do.  .  .  . 
The  King  of  England  yesterday  in- 
vested M.  de  Lauzun  with  the  order  of 
the  garter ;  a  kind  of  oath  was  read, 
which  constitutes  the  ceremony ;  the 
king  placed  his  collar  on  the  other  side 
of  ours,  and  a  St.  George,  that  he  had 
from  the  late  King  his  father,  which  is 
set  with  diamonds,  and  worth  at  least 
10,000  crowns.  While  the  King  of 
England  was  at  Mademoiselle's,  M.  de 


~  OF  THE  ~ 

UNIVERSITY 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


197 


Lauzun  went  to  Madame  tie  la  Fayette's 
with  this  ornament;  Madame  de  la 
Fayette  gazed  at  the  blue  ribbon,  and 
as  she  knew  he  had  not  that  of  France, 
she  did  not  comprehend  this  masquer- 
ade ;  she  was  silent  upon  the  subject 
and  so  was  he.  At  length  he  began  to 
laugh,  and  told  her  what  had  passed. 
The  King  of  England,  must,  however, 
think  himself  obliged  to  him,  since  he 
treats  him  so  well.  .  .  .  The  Irish  busi- 
ness goes  on  admirably,  and  so  com- 
pletely occupies  the  prince  of  Orange, 
that  there  is  nothing  to  fear  upon  our 
coasts.   .   .   . 

March  2,  1689. 
.  .  .  The  chevalier  will  inform  you 
what  our  King  said  to  the  King  of 
England  at  his  taking  leave  :  "  Sir,  it  is 
with  grief  I  see  you  depart ;  yet  I  never 
wish  to  see  you  again :  but  if  you 
return,  be  assured  you  will  find  me  the 
same  as  you  leave  me."  Could  any- 
thing better  have  been  said  ?  He  has 
loaded  him  with  everything  great  and 
small ;  two  millions  of  money,  ships, 
frigates,  troops,  officers,  and  M.  d' 
Avaux,  who  makes,  upon  the  occasion, 
one  of  the  most  brilliant  figures  in  the 
world.  ...  I  now  come  to  the  minu- 
tiae, such  as  toilets,  camp-beds,  services 
of  plate,  plain  and  gilt,  arms  for  his 
person,  which  are  the  King's ;  arms  for 
the  troops  in  Ireland,  and  those  who  go 
with  him,  who  are  very  numerous;  in 
short,  generosity,  magnificence,  and 
magnanimity,  were  never  so  strikingly 
displayed  as  upon  this  occasion.  The 
King  is  not  willing  that  the  queen 
should  go  to  Poissi ;  she  will  see  very 
little  company  ;  but  the  King  will  take 
care  of  her,  and  she  will  receive  news 
without  intermission.  The  parting  of 
the  King  and  queen  of  England  rent 
the  hearts  of  all  the  spectators ;  nothing 
but  tears,  sighs,  lamentations,  and 
swoonings  were   to  be  seen  or  heard, 


which  is  very  easy  to  be  comprehended. 
Such  is  his  destiny ;  he  has  a  good 
cause ;  he  is  the  protector  of  the  true 
religion,  and  his  courage  will  allow  him 
no  other  alternative  than  conquest  or 
death.  .  .  .  M.  d 'Avaux  .  .  .  has  the 
care  of  the  troops  and  the  finances ;  in 
short,  he  is  the  soul  of  the  undertaking, 
and  the  man  in  whom  all  confidence  is 
placed. 

March  4,  1689. 
M.  de  Lauzun  has  refused,  it  is  said, 
to  go  to  Ireland  with  the  King  of  Eng- 
land, but  he  has  hinted,  that  he  might 
be  induced  to  go,  if  he  were  created  a 
duke.  ...  I  doubt  whether  this  sort 
bargaining  may  not  be  detrimental  to 
M.  de  Lauzun.   .   .   . 

March  30. 
.  .  .  We  hear  that  the  King  of  Eng- 
land is  arrived  in  Ireland,  where  he  was 
received  with  transport.  The  prince 
of  Orange  is  so  much  afflicted  with  an 
asthma,  that  all  the  troops  he  raises 
desert,  thinking  he  is  going  to  die : 
seven  regiments  have  left  him  to  go 
into  Scotland.  For  my  part,  I  am  per- 
suaded that  the  King  of  England,  with 
God's  assistance,  will  overcome  all  his 
enemies,  and  dispel  all  the  clouds  that 
seem  ready  to  burst  upon  us. 

Burnet. 

1689. 
.  .  .  One  accident  happened  this 
summer,  of  a  pretty  extraordinary  na- 
ture, that  deserves  to  be  remembered. 
A  fisherman,  between  Lambeth  and 
Vauxhall,  was  drawing  a  net  pretty 
close  to  the  channel ;  and  a  great 
weight  was,  not  without  some  diffi- 
culty, drawn  to  the  shore,  which,  when 
taken  up,  was  found  to  be  the  great 
seal  of  England.  King  James  had 
called  for  it  from  the  Lord  Jefferies, 
the  night  before  he  went  away,  as  in- 
tending to  make  a  secret  use  of  it,  for 
pardons  or  grants.      But  it  seems,  when 


198 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


he  went  away,  he  thought  either  that 
the  bulk  or  weight  of  it  made  it  incon- 
venient to  be  c'arried  off,  or  that  it  was 
to  be  hereafter  of  no  more  use  to  him  : 
and  therefore,  that  it  might  not  be  made 
use  of  against  him,  he  threw  it  into  the 
Thames.  The  fisherman  was  well  re- 
warded, when  he  brought  the  great  seal 
to  the  King  :  and  by  his  order  it  was 
broke. 

Extract  from  LuttreW  s  Diary. 
(London,  1859.     Vol.  II.  p.  71.) 

1690. 

.  .  .  The  letters  from  Ireland  bring, 
that  our  army  upon  the  1st  instant  forced 
the  passages  of  the  river  [the  Boyne]  and 
[has]  given  the  enemy  [James  II.]  an 
entire  defeat,  killing  above  3,000  Irish, 
with  little  losse  on  our  side,  considering 
the  great  disadvantage  our  men  had  in 
passing  the  river,  the  enemy  standing 
upon  a  hill  to  receive  our  men  as  they 
came  out  of  the  water.  .  .  .  King 
James  did  not  engage  at  all  in  this  ac- 
tion (as  King  William  did,  who  was  up 
and  down  in  the  hottest  of  the  action, 
to  encourage  his  men  and  urge  them 
forward  by  his  own  example,  not  to  be 
affraid  to  venture  where  he  thought  iitt 
to  expose  himself,)  but  was  upon  a  hill 
at  some  distance  ;  and  when  he  saw  how 
it  went,  he  retired  to  Dublin  .  .  .  de- 
claring he  would  never  trust  an  Irish 
army  more. 

July  11. 

.  .  .  Tis  said  when  King  James  went 
away,  he  bid  his  army  to  shift  for  them- 
selves and  make  the  best  terms  they 
could. 

2.  Letter  of  Matthew  Prior  to  the 
Earl  of  Halifax.  (In  Ellis.  Original 
Letters  of  Eminent  Literary  Men. 
Camden  Society.     London,  1843.) 

Paris,  30-20  August,  1698. 
My  good  Lord  and   Master,  I  have 
written  one  letter  to  you  to  congratu- 
late you  on  your  honours,  one  to  con- 


dole with  you,  another  to  dunn  you, 
and  here  is  a  fourth  to  thank  you.   .   .   . 

The  King  of  Spain's  health  is  the 
weatherglass  upon  which  all  our  poli- 
ticians look ;  as  that  rises  or  falls  we 
look  pleasant  or  uneasy.  I  am  glad  to 
tell  you  that  I  think  France  is  as  much 
afraid  he  should  dye  as  we  can  be.   .   .   . 

This  court  is  gone  to  see  their  mon- 
arch a  cock-horse  at  Compeigne  ;  I  fol- 
low as  soon  as  my  English  naggs  arrive 
and  I  shall  a  little  have  settled  my  Lord 
Jersey.  I  faced  old  James  and  all  his 
court  the  other  day  at  St.  Cloud  ;  vive 
Guillaumel  You  never  saw  such  a 
strange  figure  as  the  old  bully  is,  lean, 
worn  and  riv'led,  not  unlike  Neale  the 
projectour ;  the  Queen  looks  very  mel- 
ancholy, but  otherwise  well  enough ; 
their  equipages  are  all  very  ragged  and 
contemptible. 

Adieu,  Master ;  nobody  respects  the 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  more  or 
loves  dear  Mr.  Montagu  better  than  his 
old  friend  and  obliged  humble  servant, 

Mat. 

3.  Letters  of  Mr.  Vernon  to  the  Duke 
of  Shrewsbury.  (In  Letters  illustrative 
of  the  Reign  of  William  III.  Ed.  G. 
P.R.James.  London,  1841.  Vol.11, 
p.  197.) 

Oct.  15,  1698. 

I  had  a  letter  from  Prior  yesterday. 
.  .  .  He  hears  that  King  James  and  his 
Queen  are  highly  caressed  at  Fontain- 
bleau  ;  that  the  chief  court  was  made  to 
Queen  Mary,  every  body  being  at  her 
toilet  in  the  morning ;  that  the  King  of 
France  comes  thither  to  lead  her  to 
chapel ;  that  at  meals  the  Queen  is 
placed  between  the  two  Kings  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  table,  and  equal 
marks  of  distinction  and  sovereignty  are 
paid  to  all  three,  and  a  boire  pour  le 
Roi  oV Angleterre,  ou,  pour  la  Reine, 
is  spoken  out  as  loud,  and  with  as  much 
ceremony,  as  for  the  King  of  France. 


fowid  a  J'arij-  e&e*.   Th 


i/rrrtm-j~in    ru 


%f .  Iacquc~r  vsxj-   a  i/is   l.t  r-ia-   cut  Platrc  a  tfrrutae 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


199 


Oct.  22nd. 
I  believe  I  shall  take  up  a  non-juring 
parson  to-day,  who  deals  in  policies  of 
insurance  upon  King  James's  restora- 
tion. He  pays  a  guinea  to  receive  fifty, 
if  King  James,  or  his  son,  be  restored 
on  the  throne  by  Michaelmas  next. 

4.  The  Death  of  James  II.,  by  an 
anonymous  contemporary.  (In  Mac- 
pherson,  Original  Papers,  Vol.  I,  p. 
589.)  1701  A.  D. 

The  King  publickly,  and  by  name, 
forgave  all  his  enemies.  He  had  often 
declared,  that  he  was  more  beholden  to 
the  prince  of  Orange  than  to  all  the 
world  besides.  The  King  of  France 
came  to  wait  upon  him.  He  lighted  at 
the  castle  gate,  as  others  did,  to  prevent 
the  noise  of  coaches  from  disturbing 
him.  Just  before  he  expired,  he  men- 
tioned by  name,  with  a  loud  voice,  the 
prince  of  Orange,  the  princess  of  Den- 
mark, and  the  Emperor;  and  said  he 
wished  they  might  be  aquainted  that  he 
forgave  them  all.  The  King  of  France, 
the  third  time  he  came  to  see  the  King, 
declared  he  would  own  the  prince  of 
Wales  King  of  England.  He  had  hesi- 
tated long.  The  dauphin,  the  duke  of 
Burgundy,  and  all  the  princes  thought 
it  unbecoming  the  dignity  of  the  crown 
of  France,  not  to  own  the  title  of  the 
prince  of  Wales.  He  first  acquainted 
the  Queen,  then  the  Prince,  of  his  reso- 
lution. He  came,  at  last,  to  the  King's 
bed-side.  "Sir,"  said  he,  "I  am 
come  to  see  how  your  Majesty  finds 
yourself  to-day."  But  the  King  not 
hearing,  made  no  reply.  Upon  which, 
one  of  the  servants  telling  him,  that  the 
King  of  France  was  there,  he  rouzed 
himself  and  said,  "Where  is  he?" 
Upon  which  the  King  of  France  re- 
plied, "  Sir,  I  am  here,  and  I  am  come 
to  see  how  you  do?"  The  King 
thanked  him  for  all  his  favours.  His 
most  Christian  Majesty  replied,  "  Sir, 


what  I  have  done  is  but  a  small  matter, 
I  have  something  to  acquaint  you  with 
of  greater  consequence."  The  King's 
servants  began  to  retire.  "  Let  nobody 
withdraw,"  said  trie  King  of  France. 
"  I  am  come,  Sir,  to  acquaint  you,  that 
whenever  it  shall  please  God  to  call 
your  Majesty  out  of  this  world,  I  will 
take  your  family  into  my  protection, 
and  will  treat  your  son,  the  prince  of 
Wales,  in  the  same  manner  I  have 
treated  you,  and  acknowledge  him,  as 
he  then  will  be,  King  of  England." 
All  that  were  present,  whether  French 
or  English,  burst  at  once  into  tears,  ex- 
pressive of  a  mixture  of  joy  and  grief. 
Some  threw  themselves  at  his  most 
Christian  Majesty's  feet.  All  seemed  so 
much  affected,  that  the  King  of  France 
himself  burst  into  tears.  The  King  of 
England  was  endeavouring  to  say  some- 
thing. But  the  confused  noise  was  so 
great,  and  he  so  weak,  that  he  could 
not  be  heard.  The  King  of  France 
went  away.  But  as  he  passed,  he 
called  the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  de- 
sired him  to  treat  the  prince  of  Wales 
as  King,  whenever  his  father  should 
expire. 

The  next  day,  the  King  was  some- 
thing better.  The  prince  of  Wales 
was  permitted  to  see  him,  which  he 
was  not  often  suffered  to  do ;  it  being 
observed,  that  when  he  saw  him,  it 
raised  such  a  commotion  in  him,  as 
was  thought  to  do  him  harm.  When 
he  came  into  the  room,  the  King 
stretching  forth  his  arms  to  embrace 
him,  said  "  I  have  not  seen  you  since 
his  most  Christian  Majesty  was  here, 
and  promised  to  own  you  when  I  should 
be  dead.  I  have  sent  my  lord  Middle- 
ton  to  Marly,  to  thank  him  for  it." 
He  was  taken  next  day  with  continual 
convulsions  and  shaking  in  his  hands ; 
and,  on  the  day  following,  being  the 
sixteenth  of  September,  he  expired. 


200 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


5.  Letter  of  the  Pretender  to  Queen 
Anne.  (Macpherson,  Original  Papers, 
Vol.  II.  p.  223.) 

May,  171 1. 

Madam  :  The  violence  and  ambition 
of  the  enemies  of  our  family,  and  of  the 
monarchy,  have  too  long  kept  at  dis- 
tance those  who,  by  all  the  obligations 
of  nature  and  duty,  ought  to  be  more 
firmly  united ;  and  have  hindered  us 
from  the  proper  means  and  endeavours 
of  a  better  understanding  between  us, 
which  could  not  fail  to  produce  the 
most  happy  effects  to  ourselves,  to  our 
family  and  to  our  bleeding  country. 

But  whatever  the  success  may  be,  I 
have  resolved  now  to  break  through  all 
reserve,  and  to  be  the  first  in  an 
endeavour  so  just  and  necessary.  The 
natural  affection  I  bear  you,  and  that 
the  King  our  father  had  for  you,  till 
his  last  breath,  the  consideration  of  our 
mutual  interest,  honor  and  safety,  and 
the  duty  I  owe  to  God  and  my  country, 
are  the  true  motives  that  persuade  me 
to  write  to  you,  and  to  do  all  that  is 
possible  for  me  to  come  to  a  perfect 
union  with  you. 

And  you  may  be  assured,  Madam, 
that  though  I  can  never  abandon,  but 
with  my  life,  my  own  just  right,  which 
you  know  is  unalterably  settled  by  the 
most  fundamental  laws  of  the  land : 
yet  I  am  most  desirous  rather  to  owe 
to  you,  than  to  any  living,  the  recovery 
of  it.  It  is  for  yourself  that  a  work  so 
just  and  glorious  is  reserved.  The 
voice  of  God  and  nature  calls  you  to  it ; 
the  promises  you  made  to  the  King  our 
f ather  enjoin  it ;  the  preservation  of 
our  family,  the  pVeventing  of  unnatural 
wars  require  it;  and  the  public  good 
and  welfare  of  our  country  recommend 
it  to  you,  to  rescue  it  from  present  and 
future  evils ;  which  must,  to  the  latest 
posterity,  involve  the  nation  in  blood 
and  confusion,  till  the  succession  be 
again  settled  in  the  right  line. 


I  am  satisfied,  Madam,  that  if  you 
will  be  guided  by  your  own  inclina- 
tions you  will  readily  comply  with  so 
just  and  fair  a  proposal  as  to  prefer 
your  own  brother,  the  last  male  of  our 
name,  to  the  duchess  of  Hanover,  the 
remotest  relation  wre  have,  whose 
friendship  you  have  no  reason  to  rely 
on,  or  be  fond  of,  who  will  leave  the 
government  to  foreigners  of  another 
language,  of  another  interest,  and  who, 
by  the  general  naturalization,  may 
bring  over  crowds  of  his  countrymen 
to  supply  the  defect  of  his  right,  and 
enslave  the  nation.   .   .   . 

And  now,  Madam,  as  you  tender 
your  own  honour  and  happiness,  the 
preservation  and  re-establishment  of 
our  ancient  royal  family,  the  safety  and 
welfare  of  a  brave  people,  who  are 
almost  sinking  under  present  weights, 
and  have  reason  to  fear  greater ;  who 
have  no  reason  to  complain  of  me,  and 
whom  I  must  still,  and  do  love  as  my 
own :  I  conjure  you  to  meet  me  in 
this  friendly  way  of  composing  our 
difference,  by  which  only  we  can  hope 
for  those  good  effects  which  will  make 
us  both  happy  ;  yourself  more  glorious 
than  all  the  other  parts  of  your  life, 
and  your  memoiy  dear  to  all  posterity. 


6.  Letter  from  a  warm  Adherent  to 
one  of  the  Pretender's  Suite.  (Mac- 
pherson II.  304.) 

April  22,  1712. 

If  I  did  not  know  the  King's  affairs 
perfectly  well,  your  fears  would  have 
cast  me  to  the  gates  of  death.  .  .  . 
All  his  friends  are  earnest  for  his 
changing  his  lodgings,  and  rejoice  he 
is  to  leave  France.  I  confess  it  strikes 
a  damp  sometimes  upon  me ;  but  I 
must  submit  to  his  lawyers,  who  know 
best  what  he  is  to  do.  .  .  .  O  !  what 
is  my  dear  angel  doing  at  this  time? 
He  represents  himself  always  to  me  as 
my  blessed  saviour.     Men   and  angels 


The  Stuarts  in   Exile 


201 


cannot  tell  the  heart  I  bear  to  him.  I 
hope  God  will  pity  me  and  preserve 
him.  .  .  .  I  hope  you  are  to  go  with 
him  to  his  new  house,  and  pray  God 
for  it :  it  will  put  me  out  of  all  my 
senses,  if  I  do  not  often  hear  of  you 
and  from  him.  And,  to  be  sure, 
nobody  will  be  so  kind  and  so  careful 
as  I  now  find  you  are.  I  thank  you 
ten  thousand  times.  For  God's  sake 
continue  it  to  me.  Is  he  not  my  all  on 
earth?  It  is  like  a  mill-stone  about  my 
neck  to  keep  me  from  writing  him.  .  .  . 
I  have  no  eyes  in  my  head,  but  that 
which  looks  like  red  blood.  .  .  .  When 
I  had  yours  of  the  3rd,  I  was  for  com- 
ing to  see  him,  and  roared  and  cried  I 
would  do  it  ...  but  E.  M-r.  [the  Earl 
of  Mar]  told  me,  the  world  could  not 
save  my  life,  I  would  die  before  I  was 
two  days  journey.  I  said  if  I  died 
coming  back  I  did  not  care,  but  I  was 
sure  I  would  not  die  in  the  going ;  the 
joy  to  see  my  dear  angel  would  sup- 
port me.   .   .   . 

J.  M. 


7.  Letter  of  the  Pretender  to  Louis 
XIV.      (Macpherson  II.  p.  385.) 

Chalons-sur-Marne,  Feb.    iS,    17 13. 

Sire :  What  terms  shall  I  employ 
to  express  my  gratitude  to  youi 
Majesty,  before  I  leave  the  asylum 
which  you  have  been  pleased  to  grant 
me,  almost  ever  since  I  was  born,  and 
which  you  do  not  permit  me  to  leave, 
but  in  order  to  procure  fpr  me  another 
more  suitable,  in  the  present  state  of 
your  affairs  and  of  my  own?  Words 
fail  me,  to  express  how  my  heart  is 
penetrated,  by  the  remembrance  of 
your  Majesty's  beneficence  and  former 
kindness  towards  me.  The  care  you 
are  now  pleased  to  take  of  me,  and  of 
whatever  concerns  me,  crowns  the 
whole,  and  encourages  me,  in  the  sad 
situation  I  am  in,  from  the  confidence 
I    have    in    a    generosity    that    has    no 


example,  for  its  continuance.  .  .  . 
When  I  have  assured  your  Majesty  of 
my  most  sincere  and  fervent  wishes  for 
your  prosperity  and  happiness,  I  have 
nothing  to  say,  but  to  conjure  your 
Majesty  to  be  thoroughly  persuaded, 
that  you  will  always  find  in  me  the 
respect,  attachment,  and,  if  I  can  pre- 
sume to  say,  the  tenderness  of  a  son,  a 
will  always  ready,  not  only  to  follow, 
but  even  to  go  before  in  all  things, 
during  the  time  of  my  exile ;  and  if  I 
shall  ever  see  myself  restored  to  my 
dominions,  a  faithful  ally,  who  will 
make  it  his  glory  and  his  happiness  to 
concur  with  the  first  designs  of  a  King, 
who  does  honour  to  royalty.  [The 
dread  of  this  "concurrence"  was  the 
chief  ground  for  keeping  the  Pretender 
out. — Ed.] 

M.  Martinez  to  M.  Robethon. 
(Macpherson  II.  p.  583.) 

Paris,  March  23,  17 14. 

One  of  my  intimate  friends,  who 
was,  about  two  months  last  autumn, 
with  the  Chevalier  de  St.  George  [the 
Pretender]  arrived  here  four  days  ago. 
He  speaks  very  favourably  of  him. 
The  prince  spoke  to  him  with  great 
confidence,  and  did  not  conceal  from 
him  the  good  understanding  between 
him  and  the  Queen.  He  has  news  of 
her  frequently  from  the  English  who 
come  and  return  for  that  purpose.  He 
reckons  that  all  the  Scots  are  undoubt- 
edly in  his  interest.   .   .   . 

The  Chevalier  told  the  person  in 
question  what  was  said  to  him  by  a 
quaker,  who  was  much  spoke  of  some 
time  ago,  and  who  came  from  England 
on  purpose  to  see  him.  He  said  to 
him,  when  he  entered  the  room, 
"  Good-day,  James,  the  spirit  desired 
me  to  come  to  thee,  to  tell  thee  that 
thou  shalt  reign  over  us,  and  we  all 
wish  it.  I  come  to  tell  thee,  if  thou 
hast  need  of  money,  we  will  give  thee 


202 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


amongst  us  from  three  to  four  mil- 
lions." The  prince  wanted  to  make 
him  some  present ;  but  he  did  not 
choose  to  take  any,  and  went  back 
directly  to  England.  The  prince  made 
him  eat  at  his  own  table. 


8.  Letter  from  an  English  Traveller 
at  Rome  to  his  Father.  (In  Clarendon 
Hist.  Soc.  Reprints,  ist  Series,  p. 
235-) 

Rome,  ye  6th  of  May,  1721. 

Sir :  .  .  .  After  my  arrival  hear  I 
received  your  letter  of  ye  15th  of  Feb- 
ruy  by  which  you  reminded  me  of 
your  commands  at  my  Departure  to 
avoid  conversing  with  ye  Pretender  or 
any  of  his  dependents.  I  must  own, 
that  notwithstanding  my  Inbred  dislike 
to  his  pretensions,  and  my  confirmed 
aversion  for  his  profession,  I  often 
found  my  curiosity  inclining  me  to  be 
so  farr  acquainted  with  his  person  and 
carracter,  that  I  might  be  able  to  say 
from  my  own  knowledg,  what  sort  of 
man  he  is,  who  has  made  and  dayly 
makes  so  great  a  noise  in  England. 
[He  has  attempted  three  invasions. — 
Ed.]  .  .  .  My  regard  to  your  special 
commands  was  always  an  over  balance 
to  my  curiosity  until  perfect  chance 
ordain' d  the  contrary.   .   .   . 

About  a  month  ago  .  .  .  we  became 
acquainted  with  an  English  Gentle- 
man, .  .  .  his  name  was  Dr.  Cooper 
a  priest  of  ye  Church  of  England, 
whom  we  did  not  suspect  to  be  of  ye 
Pretenders  retinue.  .  .  .  On  Ester  Eve 
he  made  us  the  complement,  that  as 
he  proposed  us  bred  in  ye  profession 
of  the  said  church,  he  thought  it  in- 
cumbent upon  him  to  invite  us  to 
Devine  service  (next  day  being  Ester 
Sunday).  Sucli  language  at  Rome 
apeard  to  me  a  jest ;  I  stard  at  the 
Doctor  who  added  that  the  Pretender 
who  he  call'd  King  had  prevaild  with 
the    late    Pope    to    grant    licences    for 


having  Divine  service  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  Church  of  England  per- 
formed in  his  Palace,  for  the  Benefit 
of  the  Protestant  Gentlemen  of  his 
suite  .  .  .  and  that  prayers  were  as 
orderly  hear  as  at  London.  I  should 
have  remained  of  St.  Thomas  belief 
had  not  I  been  aware  that  this  is 
matter  of  fact,  and  as  such  have  noted 
it  down  amongst  the  great  wonders  of 
Rome.  This  was  the  occasion  of  my 
first  entrance  into  ye  Pretenders  house  ; 
I  became  familiar  with  both  the  Doc- 
tors, who  aie  sensible  well  bred  men. 
I  put  several  questions  to  them  about 
ye  Pretender  and  if  creditt  can  be 
given  them  they  ashurd  me  he  is  an 
upright  morall  man,  very  far  from  any 
sort  of  Begottry  and  most  avers  to 
Disputes  and  distinctions  of  Religeon, 
whereof  not  a  word  is  admitted  in  his 
family  ;  they  described  him  in  his  per- 
son very  much  to  the  resemblance  of 
King  Charles  ye  II.,  to  which  they 
say  he  aproches  every  day  more  and 
more ;  with  a  great  application  to 
business  and  a  head  well  turnd  that 
way.  .  .  .  Some  days  after  my  Friend 
and  I  went  to  take  the  evening  air  in 
the  stately  Park  called  Villa  Ludovici ; 
there  we  met  on  a  sudden  face  to  face 
with  the  Pretender,  his  princess  and 
Cort.  We  were  so  very  close,  before 
we  understood  who  they  were,  that 
we  could  not  retreat  with  decency ; 
common  civility  obliged  us  to  stand 
sideways  in  the  Ally,  as  others  did  to 
lett  them  pass  by.  The  Pretender  was 
easily  distinguished  from  the  rest  by 
his  Starr  and  Garter,  as  well  as  by  an 
air  of  greatness  which  discovered  a 
Majesty  superiour  to  ye  rest.  I  felt  in 
that  instant  ot  his  apr<~>ach  a  strong 
convulsion  of  body  and  mind,  such  as 
I  was  never  sensible  of  before  ;  whether 
Aversion,  Awe  or  Respect  occasiond  it, 
I  cant  tell.  I  remarked  his  eyes  fixt 
upon  me,  which  I  confess  I  could  not 


The  Stuarts  in 


Exile 


203 


bear.  I  was  perfectly  stunnd  and  not 
aware  of  myself  when  persuant  to  what 
the  standers  by  did,  I  made  him  a 
Salute ;  he  returned  it  with  a  Smile, 
which  changd  the  sedateness  of  his 
first  aspect  into  a  very  graceful  coun- 
tenance ;  as  he  past  by  I  observed  him 
to  be  a  well  siz'd  clean  limbd  man. 

I  had  but  one  Glimpse  of  the  prin- 
cess, which  left  me  a  great  desire  of 
seeing  her  again,  however  my  friend 
and  I  turned  off  into  another  ally, 
to  reason  at  leasure  on  our  severall 
observations ;  there  we  mett  Doctor 
Cooper  and  after  making  some  turns 
with  him  the  same  company  came 
again  in  our  way.  I  was  grown  some- 
what bolder  and  resolvd  to  lett  them 
pass  as  before,  in  order  to  have  a  full 
view  of  ye  Princess.  She  is  of  middle 
stature  well  shapd  and  has  lovely  fea- 
tures, while  Vivacity  and  Mildness  of 
temper  are  painted  in  her  lookes. 
When  they  came  up  to  us  the  Pre- 
tender stood  and  spoke  a  word  to  the 
Doctor ;  then  looking  at  us  he  asked 
him  if  we  were  English  Gentlemen ; 
he  asked  how  long  we  had  been  in 
Town  and  whether  we  had  any  ac- 
quaintance in  it :  then  told  us  he  had 
a  house,  where  English  Gentlemen 
would  be  very  welcome.  The  Prin- 
cess who  stood  by  addressed  to  the 
Doctor  in  the  prettiest  English  I  think 
I  ever  heard,  said,  "Pray,  Doctor,  if 
these  Gentlemen  be  lovers  of  Musick 
invite  them  to  my  concert  to-night :  I 
charge  you  with  it,"  which  she  accom- 
panyd  with  a  Salute,  and  a  smile  in 
the  most  Gracious  Manner. 

It  was  a  very  hard  task,  Sir,  to  recead 
from  the  honour  of  such  an  Invitation 
given  by  a  Princess  who  altho  married 
to  the  Pretender  deserves  so  much 
respect  in  regard  to  her  person,  her 
name  and  family.  However  we  argued 
the  case  with  the  Doctor  and  represented 
the  strict  orders  we  had  to  the  Contraiy. 


He  replyd,  there  could  be  no  prohibition 
to  a  Traveller  against  Musick  even  at 
the  ceremonies  of  the  Roman  Cath. 
Church,  yt  if  we  missed  this  occasion  of 
seeing  this  assembly  of  Roman  Nobility 
we  might  not  recover  it  again  whilst  we 
staid  in  Rome  and  that  it  became 
persons  of  our  age  and  degree  to  act 
always  the  part  of  Gentlemen  without 
regard  to  party  humours. 

These  arguments  were  more  forcible 
than  ours,  so  we  went  and  saw  a  bright 
Assembly  of  the  prime  Roman  Nobility, 
the  Consort  composd  of  the  best  Musi- 
tians  of  Rome,  a  plentifull  and  orderly 
Colation  servd  :  But  the  courteous  and 
affable  manner  of  our  Reception  was 
more  taking  than  all  the  rest.  We  had 
a  general  Invitation  given  us  whilst  we 
staid  in  Town  and  were  desired  to  use 
that  Palace  as  our  own.  Hence  we 
were  Indispensably  obligd  to  make  a 
visitt  every  day  in  order  to  return  thanks 
for  so  many  Civilitys  receavd  :  those  are 
things  due  to  a  Turk. 

We  were  admitted  without  Cere- 
monie  ;  the  Pretender  entertained  us  on 
the  subject  of  our  families  as  Knowingly, 
as  if  he  had  been  all  his  life  in  England  ; 
he  told  me  some  passages  of  my  Grand- 
father and  of  his  being  a  constant  lover 
of  King  Charles  ye  I.  and  II.  and  added 
that  if  you,  Sir,  had  been  of  Age  before 
my  Grandfathers  death  to  learn  his 
principles  there  had  been  little  danger 
of  your  taking  party  against  the  Rights 
of  a  Stuart.   .   .   . 

I  told  him  I  was  surprizd  at  his  so 
perfect  Knowledg  of  our  Families  in 
England.  His  answer  was,  that  from 
his  Infancy  he  had  made  it  his  business 
to  acquire  the  Knowledg  of  the  Laws, 
customs,  and  Families  of  his  Country  so 
as  he  might  not  be  reputed  a  stranger 
when  the  Almighty  pleasd  to  Call  him 
thither. 

Those  and  the  like  discorses  held 
until  word  was  brought,  that  dinner  wag 


204 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


servd.  We  endeavourd  all  we  could  to 
withdraw  but  there  was  no  Possibility 
for  it,  after  he  had  made  us  this  Com- 
plement:  "I  ashure  you  Gentlemen  I 
shall  never  be  for  Constraining  any 
mans  Inclinations  ;  however,  our  Grand- 
fathers, who  were  worthy  people,  Dind 
often  together  and  I  hope  that  there  can 
be  no  fait  found  that  we  do  the  same." 

There  is  every  day  a  regular  Table  of 
Ten  or  Twelve  Covers  wel  servd,  unto 
which  some  of  the  Qualyfyed  persons 
of  his  Cort  or  Travelers  are  Invited  : 
Its  supplyed  with  English  and  French 
Cookery,  French  and  Italian  wines,  but 
I  took  notice  that  the  Pretender  eat  only 
of  the  English  dishes  and  made  his  Din- 
ner of  Roast  Beef,  and  what  we  call 
Devonshire  Pye.  .  .  .  He  is  as  free  and 
cheerful  at  his  Table  as  any  man  I  know. 
He  spoke  much  in  favour  of  our  English 
Ladies,  and  said  he  was  persuaded,  he 
had  not  many  enemies  amongst  them. 
The  Princess  with  a  smiling  counte- 
nance, took  up  the  matter,  and  said,  "I 
think  then  Sir  it  would  be  but  Just,  that 
I  drink  to  the  Cavaliers." 

Sometime  after  ye  Pretender  began  a 
Health  to  ye  prosperity  of  all  Friends  in 
England  which  he  addressed  to  me.  I 
took  the  freedom  to  reply  that,  as  I  pre- 
sumed he  meant  his  own  friends  he 
would  not  take  it  ill  that  I  meant  mine. 
"I  ashure  you  Sir,  said  he,  that  the 
friends  you  mean  can  have  no  great 
share  of  prosperity  till  they  become 
mine,  therefore  hears  prosperity  to 
yours  and  mine." 

After  we  had  sat  and  drank  very 
heaitily,  the  Princess  told  us  we  must 
go  to  see  her  Son,  which  could  not  be 
refusd.  He  is  realy  a  fine  promising 
Child,  and  is  attended  by  English 
women,  mostly  protestant,  which  the 
Princess  observd  to  us,  saying  that  as 
she  believd  he  was  to  live  and  Dye 
among  protestants,  she  thought  fitt  to 
have  him  bred  up  by  their  hands ;   and 


that  in  the  Country  where  she  was 
born,  there  was  no  other  Distinction, 
but  that  of  honest  and  dishonest. 
These  women,  and  particular,  two 
Londoners  kept  such  a  racket  about  us 
to  make  us  kiss  the  young  pretenders 
hand  that  to  get  clear  of  them  as  soon 
as  we  could,  we  were  forced  to  Comply. 
The  Princess  laught  very  heartily  and 
told  us  shee  question' d  but  the  day 
would  come  that  we  should  not  be 
sorry  to  have  made  so  early  acquaint- 
ance with  her  Son.  I  thought  myself 
under  a  necessity  of  making  her  a 
Complement  that  Being  Hers  he  could 
not  miss  of  being  good  and  happy. 
On  the  next  post  day  we  went  as  com- 
monly the  English  Gentlemen  hear  do, 
to  the  Pretenders  house  for  news.  .  .  . 
He  bemoaned  the  misfortune  of  Eng- 
land, [-and]  .  .  .  lamented  the  ill 
treatment  and  disregard  of  the  Ancient 
Nobility.  .  .  .  "  Some  may  imagine," 
continued  he,  "  that  these  Calamities  are 
not  displeasing  to  me  because  they  may 
in  some  measure  turn  to  my  Advantage. 
I  T-enounce  all  such  unworthy  Thoughts. 
The  love  of  my  Country  is  the  first 
principle  of  my  worldly  wishes  and 
my  heart  bleeds  to  see  so  brave  and 
honest  a  people  distressed  and  misled 
by  a  few  wicked  men  and  plunged  into 
Miseries  almost  Iretrievable."  There- 
upon he  rose  briskly  from  his  Chair 
and  expressed  his  Concern  with  fire  in 
his  Eyes. 

[After  a  heated  discussion  on  reli- 
gion, in  the  course  of  which  the  Pre- 
tender says  that  he  has  been  warned  by 
his  Father's  fate  and  that  "  all  cleargy- 
men  not  authorized  by  the  statutes  of  a 
nation  out  (ought)  to  be  confined  to 
the  bare  dutys  of  there  profession"], 
I  thought  it  full  time  to  take  leave,  and 
break  off  the  conversation,  as  I  per- 
ceave  it  [to  be]  to  finish  this  long 
letter.     I  own  I  am  not  sorry  to  have 


WlLHELMXJS  BYDER  GRATIE  GODTS 

Prince  van  Oraengien.  Grave  tan  Nassau,  sec.  jMarquiz 
van  Veere,enVlissingen,&c.  Baron  van  Breda.Gouver, 
nexjr  over  Geldereandt,  Hollandt,  Zeeeandt,AVest, 

VRIESEANDT,S£c.  GENERAEL    VANDE    RtJYTERYE  . 

Is  Ceteyckent  ende  GefieAen ,  door    Crtfpyn  van  Qiuboorcn  . 

Abf  Van  "Waesbergen  Exc .  Amsterdam . 


The  Stuarts  in  Exile 


205 


contented  so  far  my  curiosity  and  that 
were  he  not  the  Pretender  I  should  like 
the  man  very  wel.  We  should  truly 
pass  much  of  our  time  in  dullness,  had 
we  not  the  diversion  of  his  hous,  but  I 
will  give  you  my  word  I  will  enter,  no 
more  upon  arguments  of  this  kind  with 
him ;  for  he  has  too  much  witt  and 
learning  for  me  :  besides  that  he  speaks 
with  such  an  air  of  sincerity  that  I  am 
apprehensive  I  should  become  half  a 
Jacobite,  if  I  should  continue  following 
these  discourses  any  longar. 

I  crave  the  favour  of   your  blessing 
etc. 


9.  Extract  from  the  Memoirs  of 
Dutens.  (London,  1806,  Vol.  5, 
P-  35-) 

The    Abbe    Fabroni,    rector    of    the 


University  of  Pisa,  assured  me  that,  at 
the.  commencement  of  the  American 
war,  he  had  seen  letters  from  the  Bos- 
tonians  to  the  Pretender,  inviting  him 
to  come  and  put  himself  at  their  head. 
[This  was  the  young  Pretender, 
whose  baby  hand  we  have  just  seen 
kissed  by  the  doubting  Englishmen  at 
Rome.  Bold  and  daring  he  had  headed 
the  uprising  of  1745,  had  won  the 
battles  of  Preston  Pans  and  Falkirk, 
only  to  lose  all  on  Culloden  Moor. 
He  died  in  1788.— Ed.]  I  knew  that 
the  Duke  de  Choiseul  had  a  design  to 
send  that  Prince  to  America  in  the  year 
1760;  but  I  cannot  help  doubting 
whether  such  determined  republicans 
as  the  Bostonians  would  have  wished 
to  have  a  prince  of  the  House  of  Stuart 
for  their  Chief. 


GROUP  XXII. 


CHARACTERISTIC    TRAITS    OF    WILLIAM    AND    MARY. 


i.  A  Tract  on  William  III.  (Som- 
ers'  Tracts,  Vol.  XII.  p.  382.) 

[Sir  Walter  Scott  calls  this  tract, 
which  was  published  soon  after  the 
king's  death,  "  a  favourable,  but  by  no 
means  a  partial,  account  of  the  life  of 
the  great  monarch  to  whom  it  refers." 
—Ed.] 

Though  fortune  might  seem  a  step- 
mother to  this  prince,  by  depriving  him 
of  a  father  before  scarce  a  human  soul 
had  been  breathed  into  the  infant,  yet 
she  abundantly  made  amends  for  that 
unkindness  by  the  prudence  and  indi- 
gency of  his  mother,  eldest  daughter 
of  King  Charles  I.,  who,  by  means  of 
the  blood  from  whence  she  sprung,  not 
only  conveyed  to  him  a  prospect  of  at- 
taining to  three  kingdoms,  but  also,  by 
the  care  she  took  of  his  education,  she 
formed  his  soul  worthy  of  the  crowns 


he  was  destined  by  Providence  to 
wear.   .   .   . 

His  education  was- consistent  with 
the  manners  of  the  country  where  he 
was  educated  ;  the  methods  prescribed 
him  by  those  that  had  the  honour  of 
his  tuition  were  solid  and  severe  ;  noth- 
ing gay  or  glittering  was  seen  in  his 
court,  or  the  conversation  of  those  per- 
sons who  were  entrusted  with  the  man- 
agement of  his  tender  years. 

His  mind  adjusted  itself  to  the  admo- 
nitions of  his  tutors,  and  produced  a 
temper  serious  and  thoughtful,  quite 
averse  from  the  usual  gallantries 
practised  in  the  more  refined  and  polite 
courts,  as  they  stiled  themselves,  of 
Europe. 

He  was  never  a  mighty  scholar  him- 
self, nor  did  he  much  affect  learning,  or 
the   charms   of    a    witty    conversation ; 


206 


Traits  of  William  and  Mary 


such  as  were  masters  of  those  qualities 
were  seldom  employed  by  him  .  .  . 
and  this  maybe  truly  said  of  him,  with- 
out injustice  to  his  memory,  that  he 
was  a  much  greater  king,  but  noth- 
ing so  fine  a  gentleman  as  his  uncle 
[Charles  II.].   .   .  . 

He  never  had  many  favourites,  and 
it  was  well  for  England  that  he  had  no 
more  than  two.  The  first  of  these  was 
Monsieur  Bentinck,  now  Earl  of  Port- 
land, who  obtained  his  esteem  and 
friendship  by  one  of  the  most  gener- 
ous actions  imaginable. 

This  young  gentleman  was  page  to 
the  Prince  of  Orange,  and  much  of  the 
same  age  with  his  master.  It  hap- 
pened, that  the  prince  was  taken  ill  of 
the  small-pox,  which  not  rising  kindly 
upon  him,  his  physicians  judged  it  nec- 
essary that  some  young  person  should 
lie  in  the  same  bed  with  the  prince, 
imagining,  that  the  natural  heat  of  an- 
other would  chive  out  the  disease,  and 
expel  it  from  the  nobler  parts.  No- 
body of  quality  could  be  found  in  all 
the  court  to  make  this  experiment ;  at 
last,  Monsieur  Bentinck,  though  he  had 
never  had  the  small-pox,  resolved  to 
run  the  risque ;  he  did  so,  the  prince 
recovered,  his  page  fell  ill,  and,  in  a 
little  time,  had  the  happiness  to  find 
himself  in  a.  healthy  condition,  and  as 
well  as  his  master.  Ever  after  this 
action  of  Monsieur  Bentinck' s,  which 
was  truly  great  and  noble,  the  prince 
had  an  entire  affection  for  so  faithful  a 
servant,  and  particularly  trusted  him 
in  affairs  of    the  highest  consequence. 

Though  his  highness  commanded  the 
army  of  the  States  very  young,  when 
he  was  scarcely  seventeen,  .  .  .  yet  he 
behaved  himself  with  greater  vigilance, 
prudence,  and  conduct,  than  could  be 
reasonably  expected  of  him  at  that  time 
of  day.   .   .   . 


Though  severe  and  reserved  in  the 
cabinet,  yet,  in  the  camp  he  was  fiery 
to  a  fault,  and  often  exposed  himself, 
and  the  cause  he  defended,  with  a  rash- 
ness, blameable  in  an  officer  of  his 
dignity.   .   .   . 

He  never  shewed  so  great  a  reserv- 
edness,  nor,  indeed,  a  greater  piece  of 
wisdom,  than  upon  his  marriage  with 
the  Lady  Mary,  eldest  daughter  of  the 
late  King  James  :  She  was  a  princess 
who,  for  her  beauty,  good  humour, 
sense  and  piety,  had  no  equal  in  Eu- 
rope. Her  zeal  for  the  protestant  re- 
ligion was  surprising  in  a  lady  of  her 
youth,  and  what  did  not  a  little  add  to 
her  shining  qualities  was  her  being  pre- 
sumptive heiress  to  three  kingdoms. 

The  people  of  England  were  infinitely 
desirous  this  match  should  take  effect ; 
and  King  Charles  persuaded  the  world 
he  had  the  same  inclinations,  but  pri- 
vately insinuated  to  the  prince,  that  his 
making  a  peace,  and  his  inducing  the 
Spaniards  to  do  the  same,  upon  such 
terms  as  his  Brittanick  Majesty  proposed 
(which  terms,  in  truth,  were  too  fa- 
vourable to  the  French)  were  the  only 
means  his  highness  had  to  obtain  the 
lady.  Here  was  love  and  glory  in  op- 
position to  one  another  ;  but  the  prince, 
under  these  extraordinary  circum- 
stances, shewed  an  unchangeable  tem- 
per, and  a  mind  impregnable  against 
the  strongest  assaults.  He  assured  the 
crown  of  England,  that,  although  he 
had  the  highest  veneration  for  the  Prin- 
cess Mary,  yet  nothing  could  make  him 
recede  from  the  interest  of  the  allies, 
and  he  should  always  prefer  his  hon- 
our to  all  other  considerations  whatso- 
ever. Fortune  was  just  to  his  virtue ; 
he  gained  his  point  both  ways,  and  ob- 
tained the  best  of  princesses  for  him- 
self, and  those  articles  of  peace  he  in- 
sisted upon  for  his  confederates. 


Traits  of  William  and  Mary 


:o7 


Reresbf  s Memoirs.  (London,  1875, 
p.  82.) 

1670. 

The  Prince  of  Orange  being  at  this 
time  come  into  England,  to  pretend  to 
the  Lady  Mary,  eldest  daughter  of  his 
Highness  the  Duke  of  York,  the  King 
received  him — both  on  account  of  his 
relation  and  merit,  being  a  very  per- 
sonable and  hopeful  prince — with  great 
splendor.  Amongst  other  of  his  enter- 
tainments the  King  made  him  drink  very 
hard  one  night  at  a  supper,  given  by  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham.  The  Prince  did 
not  naturally  love  it,  but  being  once 
entered,  was  more  frolic  and  merry  than 
the  rest  of  the  company  ;  amongst  other 
expressions  of  it  he  broke  the  windows 
of  the  chambers  of  the  maids  of  honor. 

Tract  on    William  III. 

.  .  .  Some  persons  are  of  opinion, 
that  the  prince  held  predestination  ;  that 
it  was  his  judgment  all  balls  were  com- 
missioned, and  had  their  bounds  set 
them,  farther  than  which  they  were  not 
able  to  go.   .   .   . 

His  enterprise  upon  England  must  be 
allowed  very  just:  That  step  towards 
the  Revolution,  there  are  but  few  which 
cavil  at ;  it  is  true  some  persons  would 
have  been  contented  that  he  had  pro- 
ceeded but  little  farther,  and  only  tied 
up  the  hands  of  his  unfortunate  prede- 
cessor. But  these  gentlemen  argue  very 
little  like  politicians  :  King  James  would 
have  been  King  James  still,  and  soon, 
by  the  violation  of  the  people's  liberties, 
returned  to  that  course  from  whence  the 
success  of  the  prince's  arms  had  obliged 
him  to  deviate.  .  .  .  The  prince  made 
a  bridge  of  gold  for  King  James  :  he 
was  taken  by  his  own  subjects,  and  in 
a  sort  of  confinement,  brought  back  to 
London.  That  sun,  which  was  dreaded 
in  the  west  as  bad  as  death  itsself  [at  the 
time  of  the  Bloody  Circuit. — Ed.],  sets 
in  a  small  town,  the  scorn  and  mockery 
of  the  rabble. 


2.  Extracts  from  Bishop  Burnet's 
History  of  his  own  Times.  (Reign  of 
James  II.     Oxford,  1852,  p.  144.) 

1686. 
When  I  came  to  Utrecht  I  found 
letters  writ  to  me  by  some  of  the  prince 
of  Orange's  Court,  desiring  me  to  come 
first  to  the  Hague,  and  wait  on  the 
prince  and  princess  [William  and 
Mary],  before  I  should  settle  any  where. 
Upon  my  coming  to  the  Hague  I  was 
admitted  to  wait  on  them.  I  found  they 
had  received  such  characters  of  me  from 
England,  that  they  resolved  to  treat  me 
with  great  confidence.  .  .  .  The  prince, 
though  naturally  cold  and  reserved,  yet 
laid  aside  a  great  deal  of  that  with  me. 
He  seemed  highly  dissatisfied  with  the 
king's  conduct.  .  .  .  There  was  a  gravity 
in  his  whole  deportment  that  struck 
me.   .   .   . 

The  prince  had  been  much  neglected 
in  his  education  :  for  all  his  life  long  he 
hated  constraint.  He  spoke  little.  He 
put  on  some  appearance  of  application  : 
but  he  hated  business  of  all  sorts.  Yet 
he  hated  talking,  and  all  hous.e  games, 
more.  This  put  him  on  a  perpetual 
course  of  hunting,  to  which  he  seemed 
to  give  himself  up,  beyond  any  man  I 
ever  knew  :  but  I  looked  on  that  always, 
as  a  flying  from  company  and  business. 
The  depression  of  France  was  the 
governing  passion  of  his  whole  life. 
.  .  .  He  had  a  way  that  was  affable  and 
obliging  to  the  Dutch.  But  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  comply  enough 
with  the  temper  of  the  English,  his 
coldness  and  slowness  being  very  con- 
trary to  the  genius  of  the  nation. 

The  princess  possessed  all  that  con- 
versed with  her  with  admiration.  Her 
person  was  majestic,  and  created  re- 
spect. She  had  great  knowledge,  with 
a  true  understanding,  and  a  noble  ex- 
pression. There  was  a  sweetness  in 
her  deportment  that  charmed,  and  an 
exactness  in   piety  and    of   virtue   that 


208 


Traits  of  William  and   Mary 


made  her  a  pattern  to  all  that  saw  her. 
The  king  gave  her  no  appointment 
to  support  the  digr'fy  of  a  king's 
daughter.  Nor  did  he  send  her  any 
presents  or  jewels,  which  was  thought 
a  very  indecent,  and  certainly  was  a 
very  ill  advised  thing.  .  .  .  But  .  .  . 
she  managed  her  privy  purse  so  well, 
that  she  became  eminent  in  her  chari- 
ties :  and  the  good  grace  with  which 
she  bestowed  favours  did  always  in- 
crease their  value.  She  had  read  much 
both  in  history  and  divinity.  And  when 
a  course  of  humours  in  her  eyes  forced 
her  from  that,  she  set  herself  to  work 
with  such  a  constant  diligence,  that  she 
made  the  ladies  about  her  ashamed  to 
be  idle.  She  knew  little  of  our  affairs, 
till  I  was  admitted  to  wait  on  her.  And 
I  began  to  lay  before  her  the  state  of 
our  court,  and  the  intrigues  in  it,  ever 
since  the  restoration :  which  she  re- 
ceived with  great  satisfaction,  and 
shewed  true  judgment  and  a  good 
mind,  in  all  the  reflections  that  she 
made.   .   .   . 

That  which  fixed  me  in  their  confi- 
dence was,  the  liberty  I  took,  in  a 
private  conversation  with  the  princess, 
to  ask  her  what  she  intended  the  prince 
should  be,  if  she  came  to  the  crown. 
...  I  explained  King  Henry  the 
seventh's  title  to  her,  and  what  had 
passed  when  queen  Mary  married 
Philip  of  Spain.  I  told  her,  a  titular 
kingship  was  no  acceptable  thing  to  a 
man,  especially  if  it  was  to  depend  on 
another's  life:  and  such  a  nominal 
dignity  might  endanger  the  real  one 
that  the  prince  had  in  Holland.  She 
desired  me  to  propose  a  remedy.  I 
told  her,  the  remedy,  if  she  could  bring 
her  mind  to  it,  was,  to  be  contented  to 
be  his  wife,  and  to  engage  herself  to 
him,  that  she  would  give  him  the  real 
authority  as  soon  as  it  came  into  her 
hands,  and  endeavour  effectually  to  get 
it  to  be   legally   vested  in  him  during 


life  :  this  would  lay  the  greatest  obliga- 
tion on  him  possible,  and  lay  the 
foundation  of  a  perfect  union  between 
them,  which  had  been  of  late  a  little 
embroiled.  ...  I  hoped  she  would 
consider  well  of  it :  for  if  she  once  de- 
clared her  mind,  I  hoped  she  would 
nevei  go  back  or  retract  it.  I  desired 
her  therefore  to  take  time  to  think  of  it. 
She  presently  answered  me,  she  would 
take  no  time  to  consider  of  anything  by 
which  she  could  express  her  regard  and 
affection  to  the  prince  ;  and  ordered  me 
to  give  him  an  account  of  all  that  I 
had  laid  before  her,  and  to  bring  him 
to  her,  and  I  should  hear  what  she 
would  say  upon  it.  He  was  that  day 
a-hunting  :  and  next  day  I  acquainted 
him  with  all  that  had  passed,  and 
carried  him  to  her ;  where  she  in  a 
very  frank  manner  told  him,  that  she 
did  not  know  that  the  laws  of  England 
were  so  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God, 
as  I  had  informed  her :  she  did  not 
think  that  the  husband  was  ever  to  be 
obedient  to  the  wife :  she  promised 
him,  he  should  always  bear  rule:  and 
she  asked  only,  that  he  would  obey  the 
command  of,  Husbands  love  your 
wives,  as  she  should  do  that,  Wives 
be  obedient  to  your  husbands  in  all 
things.  ...  He  [the  prince]  said 
[afterwards]  he  had  been  nine  years 
married,  and  had  never  the  confidence 
to  press  this  matter  on  the  queen,  which 
I  had  now  brought  about  easily  in  a 
day. 
Letter  of  the  Earl  of  Argyll  to  an 

unknown  Correspondent . 

(In  nth  Report  of  MSS.  Commission, 

6th  App.  p.  1S2.) 

May  1 2th,  1689. 
.  .  .  Yesterday  we  disburthened 
ourselves  of  the  Ciown  which  was 
done  in  the  Bankue-tting  house  with 
great  solemnitie.  The  King  and 
Queen  swore  the  oath  ;  the  King  him- 
self   swore    it   with    that    gravitie    and 


ran    £)2t/ eta nc  QfcftctLafic    3  rancfcrvcA.    en     yrictnd<J) 


.Kstrcut  »Mruy*?n  cxcadU-'. 


Traits  of  William  and  Mary 


209 


seriousnesse  that  we  had  never  seen  ex- 
pressed in  the  taking  ane  oath  before. 
When  he  came  to  that  part  of  the  oath 
anent  rooting  out  of  hereticks  he  told  us 
that  by  it  he  did  not  understand  himself 
oblidged  to  persecute  anie  upon  the 
account  of  religion  and  took  us  three 
witnesses  upon  it. 


3.  Extracts  from  the  Rutland  Cor- 
respondence. (MSS.  Commission, 
1 2th  Report,  Appendix  V.) 

Frances  Russell  to   Lady    Margaret 
Russell. 

Sept.  29th,  1690. 
.  .  .  We  have  the  best  neighbours 
here  of  my  Lord  and  Lady  Wharton 
that  ever  I  had  in  any  place.  .  .  . 
Yesterday  I  found  my  Lady  very  much 
out  of  humour  fretting  at  her  having 
been  surprised  this  day  sevnnight  by 
the  Queen,  who  dined  with  her  with- 
out giveing  her  more  than  an  hour  and 
a  half's  notice.  .  .  .  'Tis  easy  to  imag- 
ine what  her  condition  was.  There 
was  notning  in  the  house,  nor  nothing 
that  on  such  a  sudden  could  be  got  in 
the  countrey.  She  sed  if  she  would 
have  given  five  pound  for  a  partridge, 
'twas  not  to  be  had.  She  had  no  cook 
but  a  maid.  .  .  .  Her  steward  .  .  . 
was  gone  a  week  before,  I  know  not 
where.  Everything  was  out  of  order, 
and  the  Queen  whom  my  Lady  had 
never  seen,  was  just  at  the  door.  .  .  . 
My  Lady  was  fain  to  make  her  best 
assurance  supply  the  want  of  every- 
thing else.  There  was  all  the  guards 
to  be  fed,  and  Lords  and  Ladies  to 
have  a  table,  besides  that  for  the 
Queen.  Indeed  to  heare  my  Lady 
Wharton  tell  the  tragical  story  would 
almost  have  made  one  cry;  yet  after 
all  she  was  very  well  pleased  with  the 
honour  the  Queen  did  her,  and  believes 
Her  Majestie  will  have  the  goodness  to 
pardon  the  disorder  of  the  entertain- 
ment.   .    .    . 


4.   Extracts  from  Burnet. 

I  now  begin,  on  the  first  day  of  May, 
1705,  to  prosecute  this  work  ;  and  have 
before  me  a  reign,  that  drew  upon  it  an 
universal  expectation  of  great  things  to 
follow,  from  such  auspicious  begin- 
nings ;  and  from  so  general  a  joy  as 
was  spread  over  these  nations.  .  .  . 
It  seemed  to  be  a  double-bottomed 
monarchy,  where  there  were  two  joint- 
sovereigns  ;  but  those  who  knew  the 
queen's  temper  and  principles,  had  no 
apprehensions  of  divided  counsels,  or 
of  a  distracted  government. 

That  which  gave  the  most  melan- 
choly prospect  was  the  ill  state  of  the 
King's  health,  whose  slay  so  long  at 
St.  James's  without  exercise  or  hunt- 
ing, which  was  so  much  used  by  him 
that  it  was  become  necessary,  had 
brought  him  under  such  a  weakness, 
as  was  like  to  have  very  ill  effects : 
and  the  face  he  forced  himself  to  set 
upon  it,  that  it  might  not  appear  too 
much,  made  an  impression  on  his 
temper.  He  was  apt  to  be  peevish : 
it  put  him  under  a  necessity  of  being 
much  in  his  closet,  and  of  being  silent 
and  reserved.  .  .  .  Many  studied  to 
persuade  him,  it  would  be  necessary 
for  his  affairs  to  change  his  way,  that 
he  might  be  more  accessible,  and  freer 
in  his  discourse.  He  seemed  resolved 
on  it;  but  he  said,  his  ill  health  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  execute  it : 
and  so  .  .  .  he  grew  more  retired,  and 
was  not  easy  to  come  at,  nor  spoke 
to.  .  .  .  So  that  the  face  of  a  court, 
and  the  rendezvous  usual  in  the  public 
rooms,  was  now  quite  broke.  This 
gave  an  early  and  general  disgust. 
The  gaiety  and  the  diversions  of  a 
court  disappeared.  And,  though  the 
Queen  set  herself  to  make  up  what  was 
wanting  in  the  King,  by  a  great  vivac- 
ity and  cheerfulness ;  yet  when  it 
appeared  that  she  meddled  not  in  busi- 
ness, so  that  few  found  their  account  in 


2IO 


Traits  of  William  and   Mary- 


making  their  court  to  her,  though  she 
gave  a  wonderful  content  to  all  who 
came  near  her,  yet  few  came. 

The  King  found  the  air  of  Hampton 
Court  agreed  so  well  with  him,  that  he 
resolved  to  live  the  greatest  part  of  the 
year  there.  .  .  .  This  shewed  a  resolu- 
tion to  live  at  a  distance  from  London  : 
and  the  entering  so  soon  on  so  expen- 
sive a  building,  afforded  matter  of  cen- 
sure to  those  who  were  disposed  enough 
to  entertain  it.  And  this  spread  a  uni- 
versal discontent  in  the  city  of  London. 
And  these  small  and  almost  indiscerni- 
ble beginnings  and  seeds  of  ill  humour, 
have  ever  since  gone  on  in  a  very  visible 
increase  and  progress.   .   .   . 

1689. 

.  .  .  Ward,  bishop  of  Salisbury,  died 
this  winter  :  many  spoke  to  the  King  in 
my  favour,  without  my  knowledge. 
The  King  made  them  no  answer.  But 
a  few  days  after  he  was  set  on  the 
throne,  he  of  his  own  motion  named 
me  to  that  see  :  and  he  did  it  in  terms 
more  obliging  than  usually  fell  from 
him.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  The  great  mildness  of  the 
King's  temper,  and  the  gentleness  of 
his  government,  which  was  indeed 
rather  liable  to  censure,  as  being  too 
remiss,  set  people's  minds  much  at 
ease  .  .  .  and  all  promised  themselves 
happy  days  under  so  merciful  a 
prince.   .   .   . 

1691. 

.  .  .  This  was  still  kept  up  as  a 
prejudice  against  the  King  and  his  gov- 
ernment, that  he  loved  to  have  a  great 
army  about  him  ;  and  that  when  they 
were  once  modeled,  he  would  never 
part  with  them,  but  govern  in  an  arbi- 
trary way,  as  soon  as  he  had  prepared 
his  soldiers  to  serve  his  ends. 

Another  prejudice  had  more  colour 
and  as  bad  effects.  The  King  was 
thought  to  love  the  Dutch  more  than 
the  English,  to  trust  more  to  them,  and 


to  admit  them  to  more  freedom  with 
him.  He  gave  too  much  occasion  to  a 
general  disgust,  which  was  spread  both 
among  the  English  officers  and  the  no- 
bility :  he  took  little  pains  to  gain  the 
affections  of  the  nation  ;  nor  did  he  con- 
strain himself  enough  to  render  his  gov- 
ernment more  acceptable  :  he  was  shut 
up  all  the  day  long ;  and  his  silence, 
when  he  admitted  any  to  an  audience, 
distasted  them  as  much  as  if  they  had 
been  denied  it.  The  earl  of  Marlbor- 
ough thought  that  the  great  services  he 
had  done  were  not  acknowledged  nor 
rewarded,  as  they  well  deserved ;  and 
began  to  speak  like  a  man  discontented. 
And  the  strain  of  all  the  nation  almost 
was,  that  the  English  were  overlooked, 
and  the  Dutch  were  the  only  persons 
favoured  or  trusted.  This  was  national ; 
and  the  English  being  too  apt  to  despise 
other  nations,  and  being  of  more  lively 
tempers  than  the  Dutch,  grew  to  express 
a  contempt  and  an  aversion  for  them 
that  went  almost  to  a  mutiny. 

'i  692. 

...  In  the  beginning  of  September 
there  was  an  earthquake  felt  in  most 
places  in  England.  ...  It  had  been 
happy  for  us,  if  such  dismal  accidents 
had  struck  us  with  a  deeper  sense  of 
the  judgments  of  God. 

We  were  indeed  brought  to  more  of 
an  outward  face  of  virtue  and  sobriety : 
and  the  great  examples  that  the  king 
and  queen  set  the  nation,  had  made 
some  considerable  alterations,  as  to 
public  practices  :  but  we  became  deeply 
corrupted  in  principle :  a  disbelief  of 
revealed  religion,  and  a  prophane  mock- 
ing of  the  Christian  faith,  and  the 
mysteries  of  it,  became  avowed  and 
scandalous.  The  queen,  in  the  king's 
absence,  gave  orders  to  execute  the  laws 
against  drunkenness,  swearing,  and  the 
prophanation  of  the  Lord's  day.  .  .  . 
Yet  the  reformation  of  manners  .  .  . 
went  on  but  slowly.   .   .   . 


( See  page  215.) 


Traits  of  William  and  Mary 


21  t 


1694 

...  I  am  now  coming  towards  the 
fatal  period  of  this  book.  The  queen 
continued  still  to  set  a  great  example  to 
the  whole  nation,  which  shined  in  all 
the  parts  of  it.  She  used  all  possible 
methods  for  reforming  whatever  was 
amiss :  she  took  ladies  off  from  that 
idleness,  which  not  only  wasted  their 
time,  but  exposed  them  to  many  temp- 
tations ;  she  engaged  many  both  to 
read  and  to  work ;  she  wrought  many 
hours  a  day  herself,  with  her  ladies 
and  her  maids  of  honour  working  about 
her,  while  one  read  to  them  all ;  the 
female  part  of  the  court  had  been  in 
the  former  reigns  subject  to  much 
censure  ;  and  there  was  great  cause  for 
it ;  but  she  freed  her  court  so  entirely 
from  all  suspicion,  that  there  was  not 
so  much  as  a  colour  for  discourses  of 
that  sort.   .    .   . 

When  I  >laid  all  these  things  together, 
which  I  had  large  opportunities  to 
observe,  it  gave  a  very  pleasant  pros- 
pect. .  .  .  but  we  soon  saw  this  hope- 
ful view  blasted  and  our  expectations 
disappointed  in  the  loss  of  her.  .  .  . 
The  small  pox  raged  this  winter  about 
London ;  some  thousands  dying  of 
them  ;  which  gave  us  great  apprehen- 
sions with  relation  to  the  queen ;  for 
she  had  never  had  them. 

In  conclusion,  she  was  taken  ill,  but 
the  next  day  that  seemed  to  go  off :  I 
had  the  honour  to  be  half  an  hour  with 
her  that  day  :  and  she  complained  then 
•of  nothing.  The  day  following  she 
went  abroad  ;  but  her  illness  returned 
so  heavily  on  her,  that  she  could  dis- 
guise it  no  longer.  .  .  .  Within  two 
days  after  the  small  pox  appeared,  and 
with  very  bad  symptons.  .  .  .  [The 
King]  called  me  into  his  closet,  and 
gave  a  free  vent  to  a  most  tender 
passion  ;  he  burst  out  into  tears ;  and 
cried  out,  that  there  was  no  hope  of 
the   queen ;    and   that   from   being  the 


happiest,  he  was  now  going  to  be  the 
miserablest  creature  upon  earth.  He 
said,  during  the  whole  course  of  their 
marriage,  he  had  never  known  one 
single  fault  in  her ;  there  was  a  worth 
in  her  that  nobody  knew  besides  him- 
self ;  though  he  added  that  I  might 
know  as  much  of  her  as  any  other 
person  did.  Never  was  such  a  face  of 
universal  sorrow  seen  in  a  court  or  in  a 
town  as  at  this  time.  .  .  .  She  died 
on  the  28th  of  December,  about  one  in 
the  morning,  in  the  33rd  year  of  her 
age,  and  in  the  6th  of  her  reign. 

She  was  the  most  universally  la- 
mented princess,  and  deserved  the  best 
to  be  so,  of  any  in  our  age  or  in  our 
history.  I  will  add  no  more  concern- 
ing her,  in  the  way  of  a  character :  I 
have  said  a  great  deal  already  in  this 
work  ;  and  I  wrote  a  book,  as  an  essay 
on  her  character,  in  which  I  have  said 
nothing,  but  that  which  I  knew  to  be 
strictly  true,  without  enlargement  of 
figure  or  rhetoric.  The  king's  afflic- 
tion for  her  death  was  .  .  .  greater 
than  those  who  knew  him  best  thought 
his  temper  capable  of  :  he  went  beyond 
all  bounds  in  it :  during  her  sickness, 
he  was  in  an  agony  that  amazed  us  all, 
fainting  often,  and  breaking  out  into 
most  violent  lamentations.  .  .  .  He 
turned  himself  much  to  the  meditations 
of  religion,  and  to  secret  prayer. 

A  Tract  on  William  III. — continued. 

She  (Mary)  died  as  unconcerned  as 
his  majesty  her  husband  fought,  and 
braved  the  King  of  Terrors  with  as 
great  a  resolution  on  her  bed  of  sick- 
ness, as  he  did  in  the  field  of  battle ; 
and  certainly  that  lady's  piety  or  cour- 
age was  the  greater,  since,  as  she  said 
herself  to  my  Lord  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  she  was  always  prepared 
to  die,  and  her  royal  spouse  very  often 
took  the  sacrament  before  a  battle. 

King  William,  as  it  is  reported,  was 


212 


Traits  of  William  and  Mary 


very  much  concerned  at  her  death  ;  and, 
if  he  had  expressed  a  more  visible 
sorrow,  the  nation  would  have  resented 
it  still  more  kindly,  who  sincerely 
mourned  the  loss  of  that  princess,  and 
still  do  upon  her  memfiry. 

But,  though  the  loss  of  so  good  a 
princess  afflicted  King  William  very 
much,  yet  the  peace  of  Reswick  mor- 
tified him  much  more  :  he  was  obliged 
at  last,  by  the  murmuring  temper  of  his 
subjects,  to  acquiesce  in  terms  very  dis- 
honourable to  Europe,  and  not  over- 
glorious  to  his  majesty.  By  this  treaty 
of  pacification  the  French  were  to 
retain  Luxemburgh  and  Strassburgh, 
those  bulwarks  of  Flanders  and  the 
empire,  who,  instead  of  them,  were 
only  to  have  an  equivalent,  which,  in 
fact,  was  far  from  the  intrinsic  value?6f 
those  provinces,  but,  notwithstanding 
the  inequality  of  these  and  other  articles, 
the  conduct  of  the  Duke  of  Savoy^and 
the  neutrality  of  Italy,  powerfully  per- 
suaded the  allies  to  put  an  end  to  the 
war. 

Soon  after  the  peace,  the  Partition- 
Treaty  followed,  and,  by  too  much  pre- 
caution, the  government  involved  the 
nation  in  a  dreadful  war,  which,  to 
their  best  thinking  they  endeavoured  to 
avoid.  The  Spaniards,  who  are  a 
haughty  people,  so  much  resented  the 
intended  division  of  their  monarchy, 
that  their  grandees  made  a  will,  or  in- 
fluenced their  monarch  so  to  do,  by 
which  he  devised  all  his  dominions  in 
Italy,  Spain,  and  the  West  Indies,  to 
the  House  of  Bourbon,  in  the  person  of 
the  Duke  of  Anjou,  who,  notwithstand- 
ing the  most  dreadful  imprecations  of 
his  grandfather  to  the  contrary,  took 
possession  of  those  states  and  provinces, 
by  the  assistance  of  that  monarch,  who, 
to  prefer  his  family,  despised  all  sanc- 
tions, both  divine  and  human.   .   .   . 

When  the  peace  of  Reswick  was 
brought  to  a  conclusion,  the  Parliament 


of  England  thought  it  high  time  to  dis- 
band some  of  their  national  regiments, 
and  all  the  foreigners  in  their  service. 
Amongst  these  last  were  the  Dutch  blue 
guards,  and  my  Lord  Portland's  regi- 
ment of  Dutch  horse,  who  attended  his 
majesty  in  all  his  expeditions,  long 
before  and  after  his  accession  to  the 
throne  of  England.  His  majesty  was 
much  dissatisfied  at  the  proceedings, 
and  made  all  the  interest  he  possibly 
could  in  the  house  to  disannul  the  in- 
junctions of  his  supreme  council,  but  all 
to  no  affect ;  he  used  entreaties  to  the 
parliament,  but  to  no  purpose,  and 
upon  this  occasion  behaved  himself 
much  different  from  the  haughty  char- 
acter he  had  all  along  maintained. 


5.  Letter  of  the  Countess  of  Rutland 
to  her  Husband.  (MS.  Commission, 
Report  12,  App.  v.) 

April,  1 70 1. 

I  was  last  night  at  Kensington,  my 
dear  Lord,  alltho  my  cold  yett  is  farr 
from  being  gone,  and  I  received  so 
great  a  honour  from  his  Majesty,  who, 
'tis  said,  is  observed  to  not  talk  much 
to  ladys,  that  I  cannot  miss  acquaint- 
ing you  with  it.  .  .  .  He  found  .  .  . 
the  Dutches  of  Somersett,  Ormond, 
Queensbrough,  and  myself  talking 
together  just  by  the  card  table  and  his 
chaire,  so  he  made  his  legs  to  all  the 
ladys,  and  every  one  that  played  took 
their  stoolls.  .  .  .  He  asked  me  how 
you  had  your  ill  health,  and  said  he 
hard  you  had  not  in  joyed  it  extretn 
well,  which  he  was  sorry  for.  .  .  . 
Affter  his  playing  a  litel  at  the  gold 
tabel  he  rise  and  went  to  goe  to  the 
orther  tabels,  as  he  allways  dus,  so  I 
gave  back  to  mack  the  King's  way,  and 
presed  the  ladys  behind  to  do  so  to, 
which  the  King  seeing  said  it  was  '  No 
mater,  my  Lady  Rutland,  for  I  can 
come  over  the  stool,'  so  strid  over  it 
and  when  he  came  just  by  me  stopped 


THE    FIRST   KING    OF    PRUSSIA. 

(  See  page  21s.) 


Traits  of  William  and   Mary 


213 


and   told    I   looked    mighty    well    [and 
conversed  about  you]. 

Whill  all  this  passed  between  us,  I 
could  hear  a  world  of  the  crowd,  who 
knew  me  not,  ask  "  Who  is  she,  what 
is  she,  that  the  King  takes  such  nottice 
of,  and  looks  so  pleased  all  the  whill 
he  talks  to?"  and  abundance  that  did 
know  me  asked  what  his  Majesty  and  I 
coud  find  to  talk  of  so  long.  I  told 
them  it  was  fine  speeches  of  civillity  on 
both  sides,  and  severall  spoack  allso 
to  Dolly  of  it,  who  .  .  .  said  it  was 
observed  by  all  that  the  king  looked 
brisker  and  pleaseantr  when  he  was 
doing  me  that  honour  amongst  so  much 
compainy  than  [he]  had  bine  seen  to 
do  of  sum  time. 


6.  Extracts  from  Burnet. 


1702. 


.  .  .  The  king  seemed  all  this  winter 
in  a  very  fair  way  of  recovery  :  he  had 
made  the  royal  apartments  in  Hampton- 
Court  very  noble,  and  he  was  so  much 
pleased  with  the  place,  that  he  went 
thither  once  a  week,  and  rode  often 
about  the  park  :  in  the  end  of  February, 
the  horse  he  rode  on  stumbled,  and  he, 
being  then  very  feeble,  fell  off  and 
broke  his  collar  bone.  .  .  .  He  was 
brought  to  Kensington  that  night.  .  .  . 
During  his  illness,  he  sent  a  message  to 
the  two  houses,  recomending  the  union 
of  both  kingdoms  to  them.  .  .  .  He 
died,  in  the  52nd  year  of  his  age, 
having  reigned  13  years  and  a  few 
days.   .    .    . 

Thus  lived  and  died  William  the 
third,  king  of  Great  Britain,  and  prince 
of  Orange.  He  had  a  thin  and  weak 
body,  was  brown  haired,  and  of  a  clear 
and  delicate  constitution :  he  had  a 
Roman  eagle  nose,  bright  and  spark- 
ling eyes,  a  large  front,  and  a  counte- 
nance composed  to  gravity  and  author- 
ity :  all  his  senses  were  critical  and 
exquisite.     He  was  always  asthmatical, 


and  the  dregs  of  the  smallpox  falling 
on  his  lungs,  he  had  a  constant  deep 
cough.  His  behaviour  was  solemn 
and  serious,  seldom  cheerful,  and  but 
with  a  few  :  he  spoke*little  and  very 
slowly,  and  most  commonly  with  a 
disgusting  dryness,  which  was  his 
character  at  all  times,  except  in  a  day 
of  battle :  for  then  he  was  all  fire, 
though  without  passion  :  he  was  then 
everywhere,  and  looked  to  every- 
thing.  .   .   . 

He  had  a  memory  that  amazed  all 
about  him,  for  it  never  failed  him  :  he 
was  an  exact  observer  of  men  and 
things  .  .  .  his  genius  lay  chiefly  to 
war,  in  which  his  courage  was  more 
admired  than  his  conduct :  great  errors 
were  often  committed  by  him,  but  his 
heroical  courage  set  things  right,  as  it 
inflamed  those  who  were  about  him.  .  .. 

He  grew,  in  his  last  years,  too  remiss 
and  careless  as  to  all  affairs;  till  the 
treacheries  of  France  awakened  him, 
and  the  dreadful  conjunction  of  the 
monarchies  [France  and  Spain. — Ed.] 
gave  so  loud  an  alarm  to  all  Europe. 
For  a  watching  over  that  court,  and  a 
bestirring  himself  against  their  prac- 
tices, was  the  prevailing  passion  of  his 
whole  life. 

Note  by  Onslow,  a  Contemporary . 

And  made  preparations  and  provi- 
sion for  carrying  it  on  after  his  death. 
His  design  in  all  this  was  great  and 
public-spirited,  and  no  prince  ever  pos- 
sessed more  of  that  than  he  did.  And 
accounts  of  him  have  not  done  him 
justice  enough  in  that  particular.  It 
made  him  to  forego  all  private  consid- 
erations whatever,  that  could  interfere 
with  it ;  ease,  health,  or  pleasures, 
anger,  resentment,  jealousy  and  even 
rivalry. 

Burnet. 
I  was,  in  many  great  instances,  much 
obliged  by  him  ;  but  that  was  not  my 


214  Traits  of  William  and  Mary 


chief  bias  to  him  :  I  considered  him  as 
a  person  raised  up  by  God  to  resist  the 
power  of  France,  and  the  progress  of 
tyranny  and  persecution  :  the  series  of 
the  five  princes  of  Orange,  that  was 
now  ended  in  him,  was  the  noblest  suc- 
cession of  heroes  that  we  find  in  any 
history  :  and  the  thirty  years,  from  the 
year  1672  to  his  death,  in  which  he 
acted  so  great  a  part,  carry  in  them  so 
many  amazing  steps  of  a  glorious  and 
distinguishing  providence,  that  in  the 
words  of  David  he  may  be  called,  the 
man  of  God's  right  hand,  whom  he 
made  strong  for  himself:  after  all  the 
abatements  that  may  be  allowed  for  his 
errors  and  faults,  he  ought  still  to  be 
reckoned  among  the  greatest  princes 
that   our   history,  or    indeed    that   any 


other,  can  afford.  He  died  in  a  critical 
time  for  his  own  glory ;  since  he  had 
formed  a  great  alliance,  and  had  pro- 
jected the  whole  scheme  of  the  war  ;  so 
that  if  it  succeeds,  a  great  part  of  the 
honour  of  it  will  be  ascribed  to  him  : 
and  if  otherwise,  it  will  be  said  he  was 
the  soul  of  the  alliance,  that  did  both 
animate  and  knit  it  together,  and  that  it 
was  natural  for  that  body  to  die  and  fall 
asunder,  when  he  who  gave  it  life  was 
withdrawn.  Upon  his  death,  some 
moved  for  a  magnificent  funeral ;  but 
it  seemed  not  decent  to  run  into  unnec- 
essary expense,  when  we  were  entering 
on  a  war  that  must  be  maintained 
at  a  vast  charge  :  so  a  private  funeral 
was  resolved  on. 


EDITORIAL. 


THE    SPANISH    SUCCESSION    WAR. 


[Matthew  Prior,  as  we  have  seen  (p. 
171)  wrote  in  1698:  "The  King  of 
Spain's  health  is  the  weatherglass  upon 
which  all  our  politicians  look;  as  that 
rises  or  falls  we  look  pleasant  or  un- 
easy." The  same  words  would  have 
applied  at  almost  any  time  during  the 
previous  thirty  years.  Already  in 
1668  the  Emperor  Leopold  and  Louis 
XIV  had  made  a  secret  treaty  to 
divide  the  spoils  between  them  so 
soon  as  the  sickly  Charles  II,  the 
last  Spanish  Hapsburg,  should  pass 
away.  But  the  feeble  prince,  whose 
domains  embraced  not  only  Spain, 
Cuba  and  the  Phillipines,  but  also 
the  Netherlands  and  a  part  of  Italy 
and  Sicily,  lingered  on  from  year  to 
year.  Louis  XIV  was  constantly  on 
the  watch ;  descended  from  the  elder 
sister  of  Philip  IV,  he  had,  to  make 
matters  the  more  sure,  married  the  older 
sister  of  Charles  II,  although  the  latter 
princess  had  been  obliged,  in  order  to 


secure  her  dowry,  to  renounce  her  hopes 
of  the  succession.  The  head  of  the 
Austrian  Hapsburgs,  the  long-reigned 
Emperor  Leopold  was  descended  from 
a  younger  sister  of  Philip  IV  and  had 
married  the  younger  sister  of  Charles 
II ;  but  no  renunciation  stood  in  the 
way.  To  two  other  powers,  England 
and  Holland,  the  question  of  the  suc- 
cession was  of  vital  importance  even 
from,  a  purely  commercial  point  of 
view;  for  France  and  Spain  united 
would  have  controlled  nearly  the  whole 
sea-coast  of  the  continent  of  Europe, 
and  would  have  been  in  a  position  to 
forbid  the  lucrative  trade  with  the  West 
Indies.  For  a  moment  a  peaceful  solu- 
tion of  the  matter  seemed  to  have  been 
achieved  :  Louis  XIV  and  William  of 
Orange  agreed  to  give  Spain,  the  Neth- 
erlands and  the  colonies  to  Joseph 
Ferdinand  of  Bavaria,  son  of  the 
Elector  Max  Emmanuel,  and  grandson 
of  the  Emperor  Leopold.     Austria  was 


^  OF    THE         ^P 

UNIVERSITY 


^ 


Tctximilianus  C  manual 

,6(lvc(    i i  lector.   (Mclqu 
if  uhcrna  to/  \  &CC* 


The  Spanish   Succession   War  215 


to  take  Milan,  France  to  have  Naples 
and  Sicily. 

If  there  was  one  thing  which  the 
Spaniards  detested  it  was  the  thought 
of  having  their  possessions  parcelled 
out  in  this  manner.  King  Charles  mus- 
tered strength  to  appear  in  a  council  of 
state  and  proclaim  Joseph  Ferdinand 
heir  not  of  a  part  but  of  the  whole  of 
his  dominions.  But  the  young  prince 
at  once  sickened  and  died  ;  many  be- 
lieved he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  a 
poudre  de  succession  administered  by 
order  of  the  French  King.  Charles  II 
himself  was  by  this  time  reaUy  dying. 
Louis  signed  a  new  partition  treaty  with 
Holland  and  England  ;  but  his  agents 
the  while,  headed  by  the  Archbishop 
of  Toledo  and  by  Jesuit  confessors,  were 
busy  at  the  pillow  of  the  dying  mon- 
arch, trying  to  persuade  him  to  deed 
his  realms  to  Philip  of  Anjou,  grand- 
son of  the  French  king.  An  opposing 
party,  headed  by  the  Queen,  tried 
equally  hard  to  secure  the  whole  inher- 
itance for  the  Archduke  Charles,  Leo- 
pold's younger  son.  One  day,  in  the 
Queen's  absence  from  the  sick-room, 
the  fatal  document  was  signed  in  favor 
of  the  French  candidate.  "  The 
Pyrenees  have  ceased  to  exist,"  cried 
Louis  XIV,  and  caused  Philip  to  be 
solemnly  proclaimed  King  of  Spain  in 
the  Palace  of  Versailles.  "  But  re- 
member," he  said  in  his  address  of 
congratulation,  "  that  you  are  a  prince 
of  France." 

England,  Holland  and  Austria  had 
equal  cause  for  war ;  the  two  former 
because  of  the  breach  of  the  Partition 
treaty,  the  latter  because  bereft  of  all 
share  in  the  inheritance.  It  cost  King 
William,  indeed,  infinite  pains  to  gain 
over  the  English  parliament ;  he  could 
not  afford  to  offend  the  Tories,  whose 
votes  were  needed  in  the  matter  of  the 
Protestant  succession  to  the  throne  ;  but 
at  last  the  succession  act  was  passed 


and  shortly  afterwards  the  "  Grand 
Alliance  "  signed.  William  died  before 
hostilities  commenced  ;  but  his  coalition 
stood  until  England  so  disgracefully 
abandoned  it  in  17 13.  The  Grand 
Alliance  was  joined  as  a  matter  of 
course  by  Hanover  and  by  Prussia  ;  the 
former  had  been  made  an  electorate  (in 
1692),  the  latter  a  kingdom  (two  days 
before  the  death  of  Charles  II),  with 
the  understanding  that  they  should  fight 
the  Emperor's  battles.  One  by  one  the 
other  German  powers  came  in,  although 
with  characteristic  tardiness  the  diet  of 
Ratisbon  did  not  declare  war  until  the 
fighting  had  been  going  on  for  nearly  a 
year. 

One  striking  exception  was  the 
Elector  of  Bavaria,  Max  Emmanuel, 
who  listened  to  the  delusive  promises  of 
Louis  XIV.  He  was  to  have  the  Pal- 
atinate (if  he  could  conquer  it !) ,  or, 
perhaps,  the  Spanish  Netherlands,  a 
royal,  and  possibly  even  the  imperial 
crown. 

Even  after  signing  the  alliance,  and 
after  the  Austrians  had  long  since  taken 
the  field,  England  hesitated  to  open  hos- 
tilities. But  when,  on  the  death  of 
James  II  the  French  King  ostentatiously 
treated  his  son  with  royal  honors,  and 
empowered  him  to  take  the  title  of 
James  III,  all  the  reluctance  of  the 
people  gave  way.  In  the  public  squares 
of  London  a  herald,  to  the  sound  of 
trumpets,  summoned  Louis  to  mortal 
combat  on  the  ground  of  "presuming 
to  support  the  so-called  Prince  of  Wales 
as  King  of  England."  Parliament 
granted  large  supplies  of  men  and 
money,  and  entrusted  the  chief  com- 
mand to  the  "  handsomest  man  in  the 
world,"  Lord  Churchill,  duke  of  Marl- 
borough. Fortunately  court  favor  was 
paired  with  coolness,  daring,  and,  in- 
deed, with  all  the  qualities  that  go  to 
make  a  great  commander.  The  Aus- 
trians put  in  the  field  a  general  of  the 


216  The  Spanish  Succession  War 


same  calibre,  the  redoubtable  Prince 
Eugene.  The  troops  of  the  Empire 
were  under  Louis  of  Baden,  who,  in- 
deed, although  he  had  once  done  good 
service  against  the  Turks,  had  now  out- 
lived his  usefulness. 

The  chief  successes  in  the  early  part 
of  the  war  fell  to  Max  Emmanuel  of 
Bavaria ;  he  was  greeted  on  his  entry 
into  Augsburg  in  1703  as  "Augustus 
and  soon  to  be  Caesar,"  and  a  medal 
was  struck  in  which  he  is  designated 
as  "King  of  Bohemia."  But  Marl- 
borough and  Eugene  combined  against 
him,  sent  Louis  of  Baden  out  of  the 
way  even  at  the  cost  of  entrusting  him 
with  20,000  men,  and  then  struck  their 
great  blow  at  Hochstadt,  or,  as  the 
English  preferred  to  call  it,  Blenheim. 
Marshal  Tallard,  the  French  com- 
mander, was  taken  captive  together 
with  the  cash-box  that  contained  the 
pay  for  his  troops ;  28,000  men  were 
killed,  wounded  or  taken  prisoner ; 
among  the  booty  were  5,400  provision 
wagons  and  thirty-four  coaches  of 
ventursome  females  who  had  come  to 
lighten  the  tedium  of  camp  life.  The 
whole  of  Bavaria  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  allies ;  Max  Emmanuel  escaped, 
but  his  wife  and  children  were  sent 
into  exile.  After  Blenheim  the  Mar- 
grave of  Baden  was  left  to  defend  the 
Rhine,  Eugene  went  to  Italy,  where 
he  gained  the  splendid  battle  of  Turin, 
arid  Marlborough  conducted  his  opera- 
tions in  Belgium.  Archduke  Charles, 
or,  as  he  styled  himself,  Charles  III, 
succeeded  in  entering  Madrid  and  figur- 
ing for  a  while  as  King  of  Spain. 
Leopold  died  and  wa.s  succeeded  by 
Joseph,  one  of  the  best  and  strongest 
of  the  Hapsburgs. 

All  Europe  was  in  conflagration  at 
this  time,  and  for  many  of  the  German 
princes  it  was  a  question  in  which 
struggle  they. should  join.  Charles  XII 
of  Sweden,  in    the    year  of  Blenheim, 


deposed  Augustus  the  strong,  King  of 
Poland,  and  placed  Stanislaus  Les- 
cinsky  on  that  throne.  In  1706  he  in- 
vaded Saxony,  and  forced  on  Augustus 
the  humiliating  peace  of  Alt  RanstJidt. 
Charles  XII  himself,  in  1709,  received 
condign  punishment  at  Pultava  from 
the  hand  of  Peter  the  Great. 

In  Belgium,  where  he  was  later 
assisted  by  Prince  Eugene,  Marl- 
borough won  the  battles  of  Ramilies, 
Oudenarde,  and  bloodiest  of  all,  Mal- 
plaquet,  at  which  latter  place  the  allies, 
by  a  strange  whim  of  fortune,  though 
gaining  the  victory,  lost  twice  as  many 
in  killed  and  wounded  as  their  oppo- 
nents. The  French  were  not  to  be 
blamed  for  ascribing  the  honors  to 
themselves,  and  it  was  in  these  days 
that  one  heard  in  all  the  streets  of  Paris 
the  mocking  song,  "  Marlb'  rough  s'en 
va-t-en  guerre!"  At  all  events  Mal- 
plaquet  practically  finished  the  war. 
France  was  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy, 
and  the  few  engagements  that  still 
took  place  were  but  a  sort  of  com- 
mentary on  the  long  negotiations  for 
peace. 

That  these  negotiations  lasted  as  long 
as  they  did  was  largely  the  fault  of 
Marlborough  ;  the  whig  party  lived  by 
war,  and  to  it  the  great  general  was  not 
above  catering.  And  now  a  new  event 
occurred  that  changed  the  whole  aspect 
of  affairs  and  acted  like  an  explosive 
in  sundering  the  Austrian  and  English 
interests.  In  April,  171 1,  died  the 
young  Emperor  Joseph ;  Charles  III 
was  now  unexpectedly  heir  to  the 
Austrian  possessions  and  the  sure  can- 
didate for  the  imperial  throne.  A  new 
world  monarchy,  like  that  of  Charles 
V,  seemed  on  the  point  of  arising. 
The  spectre  was  as  frightful  to  England 
and  Holland  as  had  ever  been  the 
grandeur  of  Louis  XIV.  Philip  of 
Anjou,  against  whose  claim  they  had 
been  fighting  for  so  many  years,  seemed 


UDOVICUS    WILHELMUS, 
D.G.PRINCEPS  BADENSIS- 
I C  -  MM-LOCUMTETSEKS 
GENERALIS. 


*m 


(Seepage  216.) 


7rEDERIc£  miCrVSTUSy^JNGoA  nJL 


) 


(bLECTOKofWAXdNYet, 


AM  J 


Crvrm'dat  (  Vn.vu- .  Vu>?ty  lboy. 


( See  page  zib.) 


The  Spanish  Succession  War  217 


now  the    preferable  candidate    for  the 
throne  of  Spain. 

Altogether  in  England  the  pendulum 
had  completely  swung  round.  No  in- 
sult was  too  great  to  be  heaped  upon 
the  Marlboroughs  ;  even  Prince  Eugene 
had  fallen  from  his  pedestal.  To  her 
own  lasting  disgrace  England  deserted 
her  allies  without  warning  and  made 
her  own  terms  with  France,  securing 
Port  Mahon  and  Gibraltar,  Newfound- 
land, Nova  Scotia  and  Hudson's  Bay 


Territory.  The  Pretender  was  re- 
nounced by  France  and  obliged  to  seek 
a  residence  elsewhere.  Philip  V  was 
acknowledged  as  King  of  Spain,  Max 
Emmanuel  was  reinstated  in  all  his 
possessions.  Never  in  all  history  did  a 
succession  of  defeats  reap  such  a  har- 
vest of  rewards.  France  stood  there, 
strong  and  aggressive  as  ever,  with  a 
Bourbon  on  the  Spanish  throne  ready 
to  obey  her  beck  and  call.] 


GROUP  XXIII. 


QUEEN    ANNE    AND    THE    MARLBOROUGHS. 


i.  Extract  from  Horace  Walpole's 
Reminiscences.     (Boston,  1S20,  p.  84.) 

The  beauty  of  the  duchess  of  Marl- 
borough had  always  been  of  the  scorn- 
ful and  imperious  kind  ;  and  her  feat- 
ures and  air  announced  nothing  that 
her  temper  did  not  confirm.  Both 
together,  her  beauty  and  temper,  en- 
slaved her  heroic  lord.  One  of  her 
principal  charms  was  a  prodigious 
abundance  of  fine  hair.  One  day  at 
her  toilet,  she  cut  off  those  command- 
ing tresses  and  flung  them  in  his  face. 
Nor  did  her  insolence  stop  there ;  nor 
stop  till  it  had  totally  estranged  and 
worn  out  the  patience  of  the  poor 
queen,  her  mistress.  The  duchess  was 
often  seen  to  give  her  majesty  her  fan 
and  gloves,  and  turn  away  her  own 
head  as  if  the  queen  had  offensive 
smells. 

2.  Extracts  from  the  Correspondence 
of  the  Duchess  of  Marlborough.  (Lon- 
don, 1838,  Vol.  I.  p  1.  ff.) 

Queen  Anne  to  the  Duchess  of  Marl- 
borough. 

1703. 

It  is  now  so  late  that  I  can  only 
thank  you  for  your  letter,  and  congratu- 
late the  Duke  of  Marlborough  being 
well  after  the  siege  of    Bon,  which  is 


more  pleasing  news  to  me  than  all  the 
conquests  he  can  make. 

May  God  Almighty,  that  has  pre- 
served him  hitherto  through  many 
dangers,  continue  to  do  so,  and  send 
him  safe  home  to  his  and  my  dear 
adored  Mrs.  Freeman.  (Mrs.  Free- 
man, the  Duchess ;  Mr.  Freeman,  the 
Duke.  Queen  Anne  signs  herself 
"Mrs.  Morley.") 

Marlborough  to  his  Wife  (In  Coxe, 
Life  of  Marlborough.  London,  1820, 
Vol.  I.  p.  413.) 

August  13,  1704. 

I  have  not  time  to  say  more,  but  to 
beg  you  will  give  my  duty  to  the 
Queen,  and  let  her  know  her  army  has 
had  a  glorious  victory.  M.  Tallard 
and  two  other  generals  are  in  my 
coach,  and  I  am  following  the  rest. 
The  bearer,  my  aide-de-camp,  Colonel 
Parke,  will  give  her  an  account  of 
what  has  passed.  I  shall  do  it  in  a  day 
or  two  by  another  more  at  large. 

Marlborough. 

The  Queen  to  the  Duchess  of  Marl- 
borough.   (Coxe  II.  38.) 

Windsor,  August  10-21. 
Since  I  sent  my  letter  away  by  the 
messenger,   I  have    had  the    happiness 


218      Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs 


of  receiving  my  dear  Mrs.  Freeman's 
by  colonel  Parke,  with  the  good  news 
of  this  glorious  victory,  which,  next  to 
God  Almighty,  is  wholly  owing  to 
dear  Mr.  Freeman,  on  whose  safety  I 
congratulate  you  with  all  my  soul. 
May  the  same  Providence  that  has 
hitherto  preserved,  still  watch  over, 
and  send  him  well  home  to  you.  We 
can  never  thank  God  Almighty  enough 
for  these  great  blessings,  but  must  make 
it  our  endeavour  to  deserve  them  ;  and 
I  hope  he  will  continue  his  goodness  to 
us  in  delivering  us  from  the  attempts  of 
all  our  other  enemies.  I  have  nothing 
to  add  at  present,  but  my  being  sin- 
cerely, etc. 

Mrs.  Burnett  to  the  Duchess. 
Aug.  12,  O.  S. 
Though  your  grace's  moments  are  so 
valuable  that  I  should  fear  to  trouble 
you  with  my  most  humble  thanks, 
till  you  had  more  leisure  to  receive 
such  worthless  tributes,  yet  I  cannot 
defer  letting  your- grace  know  the  joy 
I  see  in  every  one  I  meet.  The  com- 
mon people,  who  I  feared  were  grown 
stupid,  have  and  do  now  shew  greater 
signs  of  satisfaction  and  triumph,  than 
I  think  I  ever  saw  before  on  any  good 
success  whatever ;  and  after  the  first 
tribute  of  praise  to  God,  the  first  cause 
of  all  that  is  good,  every  one  studies 
who  shall  most  exalt  the  duke  of  Marl- 
borough's fame,  by  admiring  the  great 
secresy,  excellent  conduct  in  the  design, 
and  wonderful  resolution  and  courage 
in  the  execution.  The  emperor  can 
give  no  title  *  half  so  glorious  as  such 
an  action.  How  much  blood  and 
treasure  has  been  spent  to  reduce  the 
exorbitant  power  of  France,  and  to  give 
a  balance  to  Europe ;  and  when  after 
so  long  a  struggle  the  event  remained 
under  great  uncertainty,  to  have  the 
glory    to    bi'eak    the    chain,    give    the 


*Alluding  to  the  title  of  prince. 


greatest  blow  to  that  tyranny  that  it 
ever  had,  have  an  emperor  to  owe  his 
empire  to  the  queen's  armies  as  con- 
ducted by  his  grace,  are  splendours  that 
outshine  any  reward  they  can  receive. 

I  do  not  wonder  you  are  all  joy. 
You  have  just  cause  for  it,  and  to  re- 
count every  day  with  the  utmost  thank- 
fulness the  amazing  blessings  God  has 
heaped  upon  you.  The  bishop  heartily 
prays  for  the  continuance  of  the  duke' s 
success,  so  that  the  queen  may  have  the 
greatest  glory  that  is  possible,  that  is 
the  restoring  peace  and  liberty  to 
Europe,  and  what  is  greater,  the  free 
profession  of  the  protestant  religion, 
wherever  it  has  been  persecuted  or 
oppressed  ;  and  that  after  her,  her  min- 
isters, who  are  the  instruments,  may 
share  in  the  lasting  blessings  and  glory 
due  to  such  benefactors  to  mankind. 
Sure  no  honest  man  can  refuse  to  unite 
in  such  noble  designs.  I  am  really 
giddy  with  joy,  and  if  I  rave,  you  must 
forgive  me.  I  can  lament  for  no  private 
loss,  since  God  has  given  such  a  general 
mercy.  In  death  it  would  be  a  matter 
of  joy  to  me  to  have  lived  so  long  as  to 
hear  it. 

The  bishop  said  he  could  not  sleep, 
his  heart  was  so  charged  with  joy.  He 
desires  your  grace  would  carefully  lay 
up  that  little  letter  as  a  relic  that  cannot 
be  valued  enough.  Some  wiser  people 
than  myself  think  the  nation  is  in  so 
good  a  humour  with  this  success  and  the 
plentiful  harvest,  that  better  circum- 
stances can  hardly  meet  for  a  new  par- 
liament ;  and  with  a  little  care,  it  may 
be  as  good  a  one  as  the  depraved 
manners  of  this  nation  is  capable  of.  I 
pray  God  direct  and  prosper  all  her 
majesty's  counsels  and  resolutions  in 
this,  and  every  thing  else,  and  make  her 
the  universal  protectress  of  truth  and 
charity.  And  may  your  grace  be  ever 
a  happy  favourite,  happy  in  all  your 
advices  and  services,  and  happy  in  her 


jSSfe^, 

■k 

■  . 

It 

jA 

J 

|fi 

*  I  Mtet     * 

tB 

PETER   THE   GREAT. 
( See  page  216,) 


Kkys&il  \ca  nz>jg    Sk 


One  cf  t> 


n<i     an 


AN    ALLY   OF   qUEEN    ANNI 
(See  page  217.) 


Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs      219 


majesty's  kind  approbation  and  esteem  ; 
and  may  every  honest  heart  love  you  as 
well,  and  endeavour  to  serve  you  as 
faithfully,  as  does  your  grace's  most 
obedient,  etc." 


3.  Letter  of  the  Empei-or  Leopold  to 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  (In  Coxe, 
Vol.  II.  p.  21.) 

To  the  most  illustrious  Prince  of  Us, 
and  the  Holy  Roman  Empire,  John, 
Duke  of  Marlborough,  etc. 

I  salute  with  pleasure  your  dilection 
by  these  titles,  who  so  justly  deserve  a 
place  among  the  princes  of  the  empire, 
as  well  from  your  own  merits  as  the 
honour  of  your  noble  family,  and  for 
your  signal  services  to  me  and  my 
august  house,  and  the  holy  roman  em- 
pire, being  desirous  to  give  you  this 
public  monument  of  honour,  the  great- 
est there  is  in  Germany,  and  which  is 
so  justly  conferred  on  you.  And  to 
make  still  more  public  the  great  obliga- 
tions I  have  to  her  britannic  majesty, 
for  sending  so  great  a  succour  so  far  to 
assist  me,  and  the  empire,  when  our 
affairs  were  in  so  ill  a  posture,  by  the 
base  revolt  of  Bavaria  to  France,  and 
to  your  dilection,  to  whose  prudence 
and  courage,  and  the  bravery  of  the 
english  and  other  troops  under  your 
command,  my  own  generals,  as  well  as 
fame,  ascribe  chiefly  under  God,  our 
late  successes ;  I  shall  use  my  endeav- 
ours to  procure  your  delection  a  place 
and  vote  in  the  diet,  among  the  princes 
of  the  empire.  These  victories  are  so 
great,  especially  that  near  Hochstadt, 
over  the  french,  which  no  ages  can  par- 
allel, that  we  may  not  only  congratulate 
you  on  having  broken  the  pride  of 
France,  defeated  their  pernicious  at- 
tempts, and  settled  again  the  affairs  of 
Germany,  or  rather  of  all  Europe,  after 
so-  great  a  shock  ;  but  have  hopes  of  see- 
ing the  full  and  entire  liberty  of  Europe 
in  a  short  time  happily  restored  from 


the  power  of  France.  To  which  end 
as  I  am  sure  nothing  will  be  wanting 
on  the  part  of  your  dilection,  nothing 
remains  but  to  wish  you  farther  suc- 
cesses, and  give  you  fresh  assurances  of 
my  readiness  to  embrace  any  opportu- 
nity of  shewing  you  with  how  much 
affection  I  am, 

Leopold. 

Given    in    my    city    of    Vienna,    28 
August,  1704. 


4.  Letter  of  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough to  the  Duchess.  (In  Coxe's 
Marlborough.) 

Bruxelles,  July  1,  1706. 
Since  my  last  I  have  had  the  pleasure 
of  yours  of  the  1  ith,  as  also  one  from 
49  (cipher  for  George  Churchill),  in 
which  he  does  assure  me  that  he  is  de- 
sirous of  doing  everything  that  might 
please  you  and  91  (Godolphin).  I  am 
afraid  there  is  sombody  else  that  makes 
82  (  ?)  and  Mrs.  Morley  uneasy.  I  do 
from  my  Soul  wish  her  all  the  happi- 
ness in  the  world  ;  and  it  is  certain  that 
God  has  blessed  her  reign  much  above 
what  has  been  for  a  long  time.  But 
we  have  had  such  a  villanous  race  of 
vipers  amongst  us,  that  whilst  she  is 
admired  by  all  people  abroad,  they  are 
studying  how  to  make  her  and  those 
that  serve  her  uneasy.  I  really  am  not 
concerned  for  myself :  I  could  retire 
then,  and  live  with  much  more  pleasure 
released,  if  I  were  sure  that  83  (the 
Queen)  and  91  (Godolphin)  would  not 
want  my  service.   .   .   . 

Queen    Anne  to    the    Duchess.       (In 
Correspondence.) 

No  date. 
...  I  am  in  such  haste  I  can  say  no 
more  but  that  I  am  very  sorry  dear  Mrs. 
Freeman  will  be  so  unkind  as  not  to 
come  to  her  poor  unfortunate,  faithful 
Morley,  who  loves  her  sincerely.,  and 
will  do  so  to  the  last  moment. 


2  20      Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs 


Queen  Anne  to  the  Duchess.      (MSS. 
Commission,  8th  report.) 

May  1707  (or  1708). 
.  .  .  lend  this  with  assuring  you 
with  the  same  sincerity  I  should  do  if 
I  were  upon  my  deathbed,  that  I  do  be- 
lieve everything  you  tell  me  that  you 
know  of  your  knowledge  is  true,  and 
that  I  am  as  tenderly  fond  of  you  as 
ever,  and  nothing,  no,  not  even  your 
own  unkindness  shall  ever  alter  your 
own  unfortunate  faithfull  Morley. 

Queen  Anne  to  the  Duke.      (/£.) 
Windsor,  July  22,  1708. 

.  .  .  Tho'  you  say  you  will  serve  me 
as  general,  but  not  as  a  minister,  I  shall 
always  look  upon  you  as  both,  and 
never  separate  those  two  characters, 
but  ask  your  advice  in  both  capacities 
on  all  occasions. 

Saturday,  1708  (s/c). 

...  If  ever  you  should  forsake  me, 
I  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with 
the  world,  but  make  another  abdycation, 
for  what  is  a  crown  when  the  support 
of  it  is  gone. 

Oct.  25,  1709. 

.  .  .  You  seem  to  be  dissatisfied 
with  my  behaviour  to  the  Duchess  of 
Marlborough.  I  do  not  love  complain- 
ing, but  it  is  impossible  to  help  saying 
on  this  occasion  I  believe  nobody  was 
ever  so  used  by  a  friend  as  I  have  been 
by  her  ever  since  my  coming  to  the 
Crown.  I  desire  nothing  but  that  she 
would  leave  off  teasing  and  tormenting 
me,  and  behave  herself  with  the  de- 
cency she  ought  both  to  her  friend  and 
Queen,  and  this  I  hope  you  will  make 
her  do. 

Queen  Anne  to  the  Duchess.  (In 
Correspondence  of  the  Duchess  of 
Marlborough.) 

No  date. 

I  shall  dine  at  St.  James's,  an  it 
please  God,  to-morrow,  and  shall  be 
very  glad  to  see  you  there,  when  I  am 


alone ;  and  be  assured,  whenever  you 
will  be  the  same  to  me  you  was  five 
years  ago,  you  shall  find  me  the  same 
tender,  faithful  Morley. 

The  Duchess  to  Queen  Anne. 

1709. 

I  am  very  thankful  for  the  favour  of 
dear  Mrs.  Morley' s  letter,  and  for  the 
profession  at  the  end  of  it,  which  de- 
serves more  acknowledgments  than  I 
can  express ;  and  if  you  shall  dislike 
anything  I  am  going  to  say  in  answer 
to  it,  I  hope  you  will  continue  to  for- 
give me,  for  since  I  wrote  to  you  only 
as  a  friend,  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  say  the  least  word  that  I  don't 
think.    .   .    . 

I  can't  help  renewing  my  request 
that  you  will  explain  without  the 
trouble  of  writing  a  long  answer  to 
this,  what  it  is  that  prevails  with  you 
to  oppose  the  advice  of  all  your  old 
servants  and  councils, — if  it  be  not  that 
woman  (Abigail,  Mrs.  Masham)  and 
those  that  apply  to  you  by  her.  .  .  . 
It  looks  as  if  nobody  were  too  scan- 
dalous to  be  countenanced,  that  would 
but  apply  to  this  new  favourite.  .  .  . 
I  think  you  are  influenced  by  this 
favourite  to  do  things  that  are  directly 
against  your  own  interest  and  safety  ; 
and  you  seem  to  think  that  there  is 
nothing  of  all  this,  and  therefore  I  will 
take  the  liberty  to  tell  you  why  I  think 
it  is  so  at  present,  and  what  it  is  that 
would  make  me  think  otherwise. 

I  think  the  first,  because  every  day 
shews  that  you  dont  hear  my  Lord 
Marlborough  and  Lord  Godolphin  as 
you  used  to  do,  and  I  can  hardly 
believe  that  even  now  any  men  have 
more  credit  with  you  than  they  have ; 
therefore  who  can  it  be  but  this  woman, 
for  you  see  nobody  else.  And  to  shew 
you  that  I  am  not  alone  of  this  opinion, 
if  I  should  ask  the  first  ordinary  man 
that   I   met,   what  had  caused  so  great 


X&'eAtr   era.  rt< 


,  \ 


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CHARLES   XII.    OF    SWEDEN. 

( See  page  216.) 


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Her  L/raref/iei  y  ///r//r,^  of  >  A( (irllnvxvu/* 


Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs      221 


a  change  in  you,  he  would  say  that 
the  reason  was  because  you  were 
grown  very  fond  of  Mrs.  Masham,  and 
were  governed  by  those  that  governed 
her.   .   .   . 

I  had  almost  forgot  to  tell  you  of  a 
new  book  that  is  come  out ;  the  subject 
is  ridiculous,  and  the  book  not  well 
written,  but  that  looks  so  much  the 
worse,  for  it  shews  that  the  notion  is 
extensively  spread  among  all  sorts  of 
people.  It  is  a  dialogue  between 
Madame  Maintenon  and  Madam  Mas- 
ham,  in  which  she  thanks  her  for  her 
good  endeavours  to  serve  the  King  of 
France  here.  .  .  .  The  favourite  char- 
acters are  your  Majesty,  Mrs.  Masham, 
my  Lord  Peterborough,  and  Mr. 
Harley ;  and  I  am  sure  every  one  will 
allow  that  is  very  good  attendance,  in 
which  I,  and  Lord  Marlborough  and 
almost  every  one  I  know  are  abused, 
except  Mrs.  Masham,  Lord  Peterbor- 
ough and  Mr.  Harley.  Speaking  of 
her  it  begins  thus: — "She  had  a  soul 
fitted  for  grandeur,  a  capacious  reposi- 
tory for  the  confidence  of  royal  favour ; 
she  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  placed 
in  the  eye  of  favour,  whence  only  her 
own  merit,  and  sovereign's  capacity  of 
well  judging  merit,  distinguished  her ; 
happy  in  a  mistress  deserving  such  a 
favourite,  her  mistress,  in  a  favourite 
deserving  to  be  suah." 

Mr.  Maynwaring  to   the  Duchess  of 
Marlborough. 

1709.  Monday  evening. 
Soon  after  I  came  home  from  your 
Grace's  lodgings,  I  had  the  honour  of  a 
visit  from  Lord  Halifax,  who  had  said 
yesterday  that  he  would  call  upon  me 
soon,  if  I  would  not  be  denied  when  he 
came.  .  .  .  There  was  nothing  Lord 
Halifax  enlarged  so  much  upon  as 
the  present  reports  about  240  (The 
Duchess  herself)  ;  and  he  desired  me 
to  remember  that  he  then  foretold  that, 
if   that  person    and     42     (the   Queen) 


were  not  soon  upon  better  terms, 
Godolphin  and  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough would  be  ruined.  And  though 
he  did  not  pretend  to  know  much,  yet 
he  could  easily  see  that  the  storm  was- 
gathering  on  all  sides.  He  said  it 
was  commonly  reported  that  240  made 
at  Windsor  an  open  complaint  of  hav- 
ing been  worse  used  than  13  (Somer- 
set) or  even  the  Bug  (Kent)  ;  and  that 
he  thought  was  wrong. 

I  said,  since  the  fact  was  so,  I 
thought  it  was  no  matter  how  much  it 
was  known.  But,  I  said,  one  thing 
seemed  strange  to  me,  that  everybody 
was  now  of  opinion  that  nothing  would 
go  well  unless  240  (The  Duchess) 
were  in  favour ;  who,  during  the 
time  of  being  in  favour,  had  met  with 
hardly  anything  but  ingratitude  and  ill- 
usage.   .   .   . 


5.  The  Duchess' sown  Account  of  an 
Interview  with  the  Queen.  (Corres- 
pondence, I.  295.) 

Good  Friday,  April  6,  17 10. 

Upon  the  6th  of  April,  1710,  I  fol- 
lowed my  letter  to  Kensington  so  soon 
that  Her  Majesty  could  not  write  another 
harsh  letter,  which  I  found  she  intended  ; 
I  sent  a  page  of  the  back  stairs  to 
acquaint  her  Majesty  that  I  was  there. 
She  was  alone ;  however  the  man 
staid  longer  than  was  usual  upon  such 
occasions,  and  then  told  me  the  Queen 
would  have  me  come  in.  As  soon  as 
I  opened  the  door  she  said  she  was 
going  to  write  to  me.  "Upon  what, 
madam  ?  "  said  I. 

The  Queen. —  I  did  not  open  your 
letter  until  just  now,  and  I  was  going 
to  write  to  you. 

Lady  Marlborough. —  Was  there 
anything  in  it,  madam,  that  you  had  a 
mind  to  answer? 

The  Queen. —  I  think  there  is  noth- 
ing you  can  have  to  say,  but  you  can 
write  it. 


222      Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs 


Lady  Marlborough. —  Won't  your 
Majesty  give  me  leave  to  tell  it  you  ? 

The  Queen. —  Whatever  you  have  to 
say  you  may  write  it. 

Lady  Marlborough.  —  Indeed,  I 
cant  tell  how  to  put  such  sort  of  things 
into  writing. 

The  Queen. —  You  may  put  it  into 
writing. 

Lady  Marlborough. —  Wont  your 
Majesty  allow  me  to  tell  you  now  I  am 
here  ? 

The  Queen.  — You  may  put  it  into 
writing. 

Lady  Marlborough. —  I  believe  your 
Majesty  never  did  so  hard  a  thing  to 
anybody,  as  to  refuse  to  hear  them 
speak,  even  the  meanest  person  that 
ever  desired  it. 

The  Queen. — Yes,  I  do  bid  people 
put  what  they  have  to  say  in  writing, 
when  I  have  a  mind  to  it. 

Lady  Marlborough.  — I  have  noth- 
ing to  say,  madam,  upon  the  subject 
that  is  uneasy  to  you ;  that  person  is 
not,  that  I  know  of,  at  all  concerned 
in  the  account  that  I  would  give  you, 
which  I  cant  be  quiet  till  I  have  told 
you. 

The  Queen. —  You  may  put  it  into 
writing. 

Lady  Marlborough. —  There  are  a 
thousand  lies  told  of  me.  ...  I  do 
assure  your  Majesty  that  there  are 
several  things  which  I  have  heard  have 
been  told  to  your  Majesty  that  I  have 
said  of  you,  that  I  am  no  more  capable 
of,  than  I  am  of  killing  my  children. 

I  should  have  said,  when  I  began  to 
speak,  after  she  had  so  unnecessarily 
repeated  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again,  that  I  might  put  what  I  had  to 
say  in  writing,  when  she  saw  I  went  on 
to  tell  her  the  thing,  she  turned  her 
face  from  me  as  if  she  feared  blushing 
upon  something  I  might  say  to  her. 

The  Queen. —  There  are,  without 
doubt,  many  lies  told. 


Lady  Marlborough. — Pray,  madam, 
tell  me  what  you  have  heard  of  me, 
that  I  may  not  trouble  you  to  repeat 
more  disagreeable  things  than  neces- 
sary. 

The  Queen. —  You  said  you  desire 
no  answer,  and  I  shall  give  you  none. 

Lady  Marlborough. —  I  am  confi- 
dent your  Majesty  could  not  be  so  hard 
to  me,  if  you  could  believe  that  'tis 
only  to  do  myself  justice,  and  that  I 
could  convince  you  that  I  have  no  de- 
sign of  desiring  any  favour  you  are 
averse  to. 

The  Queen. —  I  will  go  out  of  the 
room. 

Upon  which  I  followed  her  to  the 
door,  where  she  stopped,  and  when  I 
could  speak,  which  I  could  not  in  some 
time,  for  the  tears  that  fell  down  my 
face,  at  which  I  was  sorry  but  could 
not  help  it,  (and  I  believe  there  are  not 
many  that  would  not  have  been  as  much 
moved  at  such  strange  usage)  I  appealed 
to  her.  o  .  .  I  only  beg  to  know  what 
you  have  heard,  that  I  might  be  able  to 
clear  myself  in  anything  in  which  I 
was  wronged. 

The  Queen. —  You  said  you  desire 
no  answer,  and  I  shall  give  you  none. 


6.  Extracts  from  Swift's  Journal  to 
Stella.  (Sir  Walter  Scott's  Edition  of 
Swift's  Works,  Vols.  2  and  3.) 

1710-11,  Jan.  7. 
..  .  The  Whigs,  now  they  are  fallen, 
are  the  most  malicious  toads  in  the 
world.  We  have  now  had  a  second 
misfortune,  the  loss  of  several  Virginia 
ships.  I  fear  people  will  begin  to  think 
that  nothing  thrives  under  this  ministry  : 
and  if  the  ministry  can  once  be  rendered 
odious  to  the  people,  the  parliament 
may  be  chosen  Whig  or  Tory,  as  the 
queen  pleases.  Then  I  think  our 
friends  press  a  little  too  hard  on  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough.  The  country 
members  are  violent  to  have  past  faults 


Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs     223 


inquired  into,  and  they  have  reason ; 
but  I  do  not  observe  the  ministry  to  be 
very  fond  of  it.  In  my  opinion,  we 
have  nothing  to  save  us  but  a  peace, 
and  I  am  sure  we  can  not  have  such  a 
one  as  we  hoped,  and  then  the  Whigs 
will  bawl  what  they  would  have  done 
had  they  continued  in  power.  [England 
was  verging  towards  the  utterly  disgrace- 
ful peace  of  Utrecht.]  I  tell  the  min- 
istry this  as  much  as  I  dare,  and  shall 
venture  to  say  a  little  more  to  them, 
especially  about  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough, who,  as  the  Whigs  give  out,  will 
lay  down  his  command  ;  and  I  question 
whether  ever  any  wise  state  laid  aside  a 
general  who  had  been  successful  nine 
years  together,  whom  the  enemy  so 
much  dreaded,  and  his  own  soldiers 
believe  must  always  conquer ;  and  you 
know  that  in  war  opinion  is  nine  parts 
in  ten.  The  ministry  hear  me  always 
with  appearance  of  regard,  and  much 
kindness  ;  but  I  doubt  they  let  personal 
quarrels  mingle  too  much  with  their 
proceedings.  .  .  .  Pshaw,  what  is  all 
this?  Do  you  know  one  thing,  that  I 
find  I  can  write  politics  to  you  much 
easier  than  to  anybody  alive?  .   .   . 

Jan.  12. 

.  .  .  Lady  Marlborough  offers,  if 
they  will  let  her  keep  her  employ- 
ments, never  to  come  into  the  queen's 
presence.  The  Whigs  say  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  will  serve  no  more ; 
but  I  hope  and  think  otherwise.  I 
would  to  Heaven  I  were  this  minute 
with  my  dearest  at  Dublin  ;  for  I  am 
weary  of  politics  that  give  me  such  mel- 
ancholy prospects.   .   .  . 

August  19. 

The  queen  did  not  stir  out  to-day, 
she  is  in  a  little  fit  of  the  gout.  I  dined 
at  Mr.  Masham's.  .  .  .  The  queen 
has  ordered  twenty  thousand  pounds,  to 
go  on  with  the  building  at  Blenheim, 
which  has  been  starved  till  now,  since 
the  change  of  the  ministry.      I  suppose 


it  is  to  reward  his  last  action  of  getting 
into. the  French  lines.  [Note  by  Scott : 
"  Before  Bouchain  ;  a  piece  of  general- 
ship deemed  equal  to  almost  any  of  his 
exploits."] 

Dec.  6. 

.  .  .  The  Duke  of  Marlborough  has 
not  seen  the  queen  for  some  days  past. 
Mrs.  Masham  is  glad  of  it,  because  she 
says  he  tells  a  hundred  lies  to  his 
friends  of  what  she  says  to  him  :  he  is 
one  day  humble,  and  the  next  day  on 
the  high  ropes.   .   .   . 

Dec.  30th. 

.  .  .  The  Duke  of  Marlborough  was 
at  court  to-day,  and  nobody  hardly  took 
notice  of  him.  Masham's  being  a  lord 
begins  to  take  wind  ;  nothing  at  court 
can  be  kept  a  secret. 

Dec.  31. 

...  I  hear  the  Duke  of  Marlborough 
is  turned  out  of  all  his  employments  :  I 
shall  know  to-morrow,  when  I  am  to 
carry  Dr.  King  to  dine  with  the  secre- 
tary.— These  are  strong  remedies  ;  pray 
God  the  patient  is  able  to  bear  them. 
The  last  ministry  people  are  utterly 
desperate. 

Jan.  1,  171 1-12. 

.  .  .  The  queen  and  lord-treasurer 
mortally  hate  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough, and  to  that  he  owes  his  fall,  more 
than  to  his  other  faults :  unless  he  has 
been  tampering  too  far  with  his  party, 
of  which  I  have  not  heard  any  particu- 
lars ;  however  it  be,  the  world  abroad 
will  blame  us.  I  confess  my  belief, 
that  he  has  not  one  good  quality  in  the 
world  beside  that  of  a  general,  and 
even  that  I  have  heard  denied  by  several 
great  soldiers.  But  we  have  had  con- 
stant success  in  arms  while  he  com- 
manded. Opinion  is  a  mighty  matter 
in  war,  and  I  doubt  the  French  think 
it  impossible  to  conquer  an  army  that 
he  leads,  and  our  soldiers  think  the 
same  ;  and  how  far  even  this  step  may 
encourage    the    French   to    play  tricks 


224      Queen  Anne  and  the   Marlborough s 


with  us,  no  man  knows.  I  do  not  love 
to  see  personal  resentment  mix  with 
public  affairs.   .   .   . 

Jan.  8. 

.  .  .  The  Duke  of  Marlborough  says, 
there  is  nothing  he  now  desires  so  much 
as  to  contrive  some  way  how  to  soften 
Dr.  Swift.  He  is  mistaken ;  for  those 
things  that  have  been  hardest  against 
him  were  not  written  by  me.  Mr.  Sec- 
retary told  me  this  from  a  friend  of  the 
duke's;  and  I'm  sure  now  he  is  down, 
I  shall  not  trample  on  him  ;  although  I 
love  him  not,  I  dislike  his  being  out. 
Jan.  10. 

This  was  our  society  day  you  know  : 
but  the  Duke  of  Ormond  could  not  be 
with  us,  because  he  dined  with  Prince 
Eugene.  It  cost  me  a  guinea  contribu- 
tion to  a  poet,  who  had  made  a  copy  of 
verses  upon  monkies,  applying  the  story 
to  the  Duke  of  Marlborough  ;  the  rest 
gave  two  guineas,  except  the  two  phy- 
sicians, who  followed  my  example.  I 
don't  like  this  custom  :  the  next  time  I 
will  give  nothing. 

Jan.  13. 

...  I  saw  Prince  Eugene  to-day  at 
court :  I  don't  think  him  an  ugly-faced 
fellow,  but  well  enough,  and  a  good 
shape. 

Jan.  23. 

I  dined  again  to-day  with  the  secre- 
tary, but  could  not  despatch  some  busi- 
ness I  had  with  him,  he  has  so  much 
besides  upon  his  hands  at  this  juncture, 
and  preparing  against  the  great  business 
of  to-morrow,  which  we  are  top  full  of. 
The  minister's  design  is,  that  the  Duke 
of  Marlborough  shall  be  censured  as 
gently  as  possible,  provided  his  friends 
will  not  make  head  to  defend  him,  but 
if  they  do  it  may  end  in  some  severer 
votes.  A  gentleman,  who  was  just 
now  with  him  (Marlborough),  tells  me 
he  is  much  cast  down  and  fallen  away ; 
but  he  is  positive,  if  he  has  but  ten 
friends  in  the  House,  that  they  shall  de- 


fend him  to  the  utmost,  and  endeavour 
to  prevent  the  least  censure  upon  him, 
which  I  think  cannot  be,  since  the  bri- 
bery is  manifest.  Sir  Solomon  Medina 
paid  him  six  thousand  pounds  a  year  to 
have  the  employment  of  providing  bread 
for  the  army,  and  the  duke  owns  it 
in  his  letter  to  the  commissioner  of 
accounts.   .   .   . 

Jan.  25. 
The  secretary  sent  to  me  this  morning 
to  know  whether  we  should  dine  to- 
gether; I  went  to  him,  and  there  I 
learned  that  the  question  went  against 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough,  by  a  major- 
ity of  a  hundred ;  so  the  ministry  is 
mighty  well  satisfied,  and  the  duke  will 
now  be  able  to  do  no  hurt.  .  .  .  No  I 
was  not  splenetic  ;  you  see  what  plunges 
the  court  has  been  at  to  set  all  right 
again.  ...  I  am  of  your  opinion,  that 
Lord  Marlborough  is  used  too  hardly  :  I 
have  often  scratched  out  passages  from 
papers  and  pamphlets  sent  me,  before 
they  were  printed ;  because  I  thought 
them  too  severe.  But  he  is  certainly  a 
vile  man,  and  has  no  sort  of  merit 
beside  the  military.   .   .   . 

Feb.  10. 
I  saw  Prince  Eugene  at  court  to-day 
very  plain.      He  is    a    plaguy   yellow, 
and  literally  ugly  besides. 


7.  Letter  of  the  Electress  Sophia  to 
the  Earl  of  Strafford  (In  Macpherson, 
Original  Papers,  Vol.  II.  p.  347.) 

Jan.  1712. 

.  .  .  The  good  natured  lord  Rivers 
told  me,  he  clearly  perceived  I  was  of 
the  duke  of  Marlborough's  party.  I 
answered  that  if  the  Queen  had  made 
an  ape  her  general,  and  that  he  had 
gained  so  many  battles  and  towns,  I 
would  be  equally  for  him  :  and  I  see 
that  you  have  forgot  how  little  I  was 
obliged  to  his  wife;  and  as  for  him- 
self, he  never  spoke  to  me  of  anything 
which   had  any  concern   with   the    ad- 


Queen  Anne  and  the   Marlboroughs      225 


vantages  of  this  house.  His  expres- 
sion, in  speaking  of  the  Queen,  was 
always,  that  she  was  a  very  good  sort 
of  a  woman.  He  repeated  this  fre- 
quently, and  it  appeared  to  us  too  low  a 
commendation  for  so  great   a  princess. 

Mrs.  White  to  Mrs.  Watson.  (In 
Macpherson's  Original  Papers,  Vol  II. 
p.  271,  ff.) 

Feb.  1712. 

My  lord  Marlborough  is  very  humble, 
visits  every  creature  that  has  any  credit. 
To  General  Webb  he  sent  to  know, 
when  he  would  be  at  home,  he  would 
visit  him.  He  sent  him  word,  he 
never  would  be  at  home  to  him  ;  that 
he  (Marlborough)  had  done  him  all 
the  injustice  he  could  when  he  was  in 
power,  and  that  now  he  would  do  him 
all  the  justice  he  could,  which  he 
thought  he  deserved ;  and  my  lord 
Wharton  told  my  loid  treasurer,  that 
he  played  well  at  whist :  what  he  could 
not  make  by  tricks,  he  made  up  by 
knaves. 

1712. 

The  birth  day  of  the  Queen,  the 
Duke  of  Marlborough  was  in  a  chair 
in  St.  James's  Park,  with  the  curtains 
drawn  :  the  mob,  that  believed  it  to  be 
the  Prince  Eugene,  huzza' d  the  chair; 
but  the  duke  modestly  drew  back  the 
curtains  and  put  himself  out,  and  with 
a  sign  shewed  his  dislike  to  the  saluta- 
tion. The  mob,  finding  their  mistake,' 
and  that  it  was  he,  cried  out,  "  Stop 
thief,"  which  was  a  thorough  mortifi- 
cation to  him.  His  daughters,  that 
day,  to  shew  their  contempt  of  the 
court,  were  in  wrapping-gowns  at  a 
window  in  St.  James's  to  see  the  com- 
pany pass,  two  of  them,  and  the  other 
two  drove  through  the  Pall-mall  four 
times,  in  the  worst  mob-dress  they 
could  put  themselves.  The  duke  was 
in  a  black  suit,  that  day,  and  his  son- 
in-law,  the  duke  of  Montague,  was  at 
court  in  a  plain,  coarse,  red  coat,  with 


a  long  shoulder- knot,  in  ridicule  of  the 
day ;  but  the  Queen  had  the  satisfac- 
tion to  see  the  most  splendid  court 
that  ever  was,  and  crowded  more  than 
ever  by  all  the  church,  nobility  and 
gentry.  There  was  a  short  uproar. 
My  lord  Marlborough  finds  his  levees 
much  thinner  than  they  were,  and  daily 
less  and  less.  The  people  are  disgusted 
at  him.  In  a  little  time  he  will  be 
odious  to  them.  How  they  huzza  the 
Duke  of  Ormond,  who  loves  popularity 
too  well.  Prince  Eugene  wears  the 
sword  the  Queen  gave  him  ever  since 
the  birth-day  ;  it  is  worth  6000/.  He 
has  had  his  answer  from  the  third  day 
he  was  here.  The  court  wish  him 
gone. 

Swift' s  Journal. 

Oct.  28. 
.  .  .  Here  is  the  Duke  of  Marlbor- 
ough going  out  of  England  (Lord 
knows  why),  which  causes  many  spec- 
ulations. Some  say  he  is  conscious  of 
guilt,  and  dare  not  stand  it.  Others 
think  he  has  a  mind  to  fling  an  odium 
on  the  government,  as  who  should  say, 
that  one,  who  has  done  such  great  ser- 
vices to  his  country,  cannot  live  quietly 
in  it,  by  reason  of  the  malice  of  his 
enemies.  I  have  helped  to  patch  up 
these  people  together  once  more.  God 
knows  how  long  it  may  last.   .   .   . 

Jan.  6,  1712-13. 
.  .  .  The  Duchess  of  Marlborough 
is  leaving  England,  to  go  to  her  duke, 
and  makes  presents  of  rings  to  several 
friends,  they  say  worth  two  hundred 
pounds  a  piece.  I  am  sure  she  ought 
to  give  me  one,  though  the  duke  pre- 
tended to  think  me  his  greatest  enemy, 
and  got  people  to  tell  me  so,  and  very 
mildly  to  let  me  know  how  gladly  he 
would  have  me  softened  toward  him. 
I  bid  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance  and 
mine  let  him  know,  that  1  had  hindered 
many  bitter  things  against  him  ;  not  for 


226     Queen  Anne  and  the   Marlboroughs 


his  own  sake,  but  because  I  thought  it 
looked  base ;  and  I  desired  everything 
should  be  left  him,  except  power. 
Night,  MD.   .   .   . 

April  1 1 . 
I  dined  at  lord-treasurer's,  with  his 
Saturday  company.  We  had  ten  at 
table,  all  lords  but  myself  and  the  chan- 
cellor of  the  exchequer.  .  .  .  Lord- 
treasurer  showed  us  a  small  picture, 
enamelled  work,  and  set  in  gold,  worth 
about  twenty  pounds ;  a  picture,  I 
mean,  of  the  queen,  which  she  gave  to 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough,  set  in 
diamonds.  When  the  duchess  was 
leaving  England,  she  took  off  all  the 
diamonds,  and  gave  the  picture  to 
one  Mrs.  Higgins  (an  old  intriguing 
woman,  whom  everybody  knows),  bid- 
ding her  make  the  best  of  it  she  could. 
Lord-treasurer  sent  to  Mrs.  Higgins  for 
this  picture,  and  gave  her  a  hundred 
pounds  for  it.  Was  ever  such  an  un- 
grateful beast  as  that  duchess?  or  did 
you  ever  hear  such  a  story  ?  I  suppose 
the  Whigs  will  not  believe  it.  Pray, 
try  them.  She  takes  off  the  diamonds, 
and  gives  away  the  picture  to  an  in- 
significant woman,  as  a  thing  of  no 
consequence :  and  gives  it  to  her  to 
sell,  like  a  piece  of  old-fashioned  plate. 
Is  she  not  a  detestable  slut?  Night, 
dear  MD. 

8.  Characteristics  of  Queen  Anne  as 
drawn  by  the  Duchess.  (Correspond- 
ence, p.  119.) 

Queen  Anne  had  a  person  and  ap- 
pearance not  at  all  ungraceful,  till  she 
grew  exceeding  gross  and  corpulent. 
There  was  something  of  majesty  in  her 
look,  but  mixed  with  a  sullen  and  con- 
stant frown,  that  plainly  betrayed  a 
gloominess  of  soul,  and  a  cloudiness  of 
disposition  within.  She  seemed  to  in- 
herit a  good  deal  of  her  father's  mo- 
roseness,  which  naturally  produced  in 
her  the  same  sort  of  stubborn  positive- 


ness  in  many  cases,  both  ordinary  and 
extraordinary,  as  well  as  the  same  sort 
of  bigotry  in  religion. 

Her  memory  was  exceeding  great, 
almost  to  a  wonder,  and  had  these  two 
peculiarities  very  remarkable  in  it,  that  . 
she  could,  whenever  she  pleased,  forget 
what  others  would  have  thought  Jhem- 
selves  obliged  by  truth  and  honour 
to  remember,  and  remember  all  such 
things  as  others  would  think  it  an  hap- 
piness to  forget.  Indeed  she  chose  to 
retain  in  it  very  little  besides  ceremo- 
nies and  customs  of  courts,  and  such 
like  insignificant  trifles;  so  that  her 
conversation,  which  otherwise  might 
have  been  enlivened  by  so  great  a 
memory,  was  only  made  the  more 
empty  and  trifling  by  it,  chiefly  turn- 
ing upon  fashions  and  rules  of  preced- 
ence, or  observations  upon  the  weather, 
or  some  such  poor  topics,  without  any 
variety  or  entertainment.  Upon. which 
account  it  was  a  sort  of  unhappiness  to 
her  that  she  naturally  loved  to  have  a 
great  crowd  come  to  her ;  for  when 
they  were  come  to  Court,  she  never 
cared  to  have  them  come  in  to  her,  nor 
to  go  out  herself  to  them,  having  little 
to  say  to  them,  but  that  it  was  either 
hot  or  cold ;  and  little  to  enquire  of 
them,  but  how  long  they  had  been  in 
town,  or  the  like  weighty  matters.  She 
never  discovered  any  readiness  of  parts, 
either  in  asking  questions,  or  in  giving 
answers.  In  matters  of  ordinary  mo- 
ment, her  discourse  had  nothing  of 
brightness  or  wit ;  and  in  weightier 
matters,  she  never  spoke  but  in  a  hurry, 
and  had  a  certain  knack  of  sticking  to 
what  had  been  dictated  to  her,  to  a 
degree  often  very  disagreeable,  and 
without  the  least  sign  of  understanding 
or  judgment. 

Her  letters  were  very  indifferent,  both 
in  sense  and  spelling,  unless  they  were 
generally  enlivened  with  a  few  passion- 
ate    expressions,       sometimes      pretty 


f;z§s^^  ihmjQ  twit.  i7t>z> 

T.Krullri-    M<jiu'j   ptri.r. 


I.  SnittA  pr.  et  <ex- 


Queen  Anne  and  the  Marlboroughs       227 


enough,  but  repeated  over  and  over 
again,  without  the  mixture  of  any- 
thing either  of  diversion  or  ins- 
truction. 

Her  civility  and  good  manners  in  con- 
versation (to  which  the  education  of 
great  persons  naturally  leads)  were 
general  enough,  till  in  her  latter  days 
her  new  friends  untaught  her  these 
accomplishments  and  then  her  whole 
deportment  was  visibly  changed  to  that 
degree,  that  when  some  things  disagree- 
able to  her  own  honour  or  passion  have 
been  laid  before  her,  she  would  descend 
to  the  lowest  and  most  shocking 
forms  of  contradiction ;  and  what,  in 
any  of  a  meaner  station,  would  have 
been  esteemed  the  height  of  unpolite- 
ness. 

Her  friendships  were  flames  of  ex- 
travagant passion,  ending  in  indiffer- 
ence or  aversion.  Her  love  to  the 
Prince  seemed,  in  the  eye  of  the  world, 
to  be  prodigiously  great ;  and  great  as 
was  the  passion  of  her  grief,  her 
stomach  was  greater ;  for  that  very  day 
he  died  she  eat  three  very  large  and 
hearty  meals,  so  that  one  would  think 
that  as  other  persons'  grief  takes  away 
their  appetites,  her  appetite  took  away 
her  grief.  Nor  was  it  less  remarkable 
where  there  was  so  great  an  appearance 
of  love,  the  peculiar  pleasure  she  took 
before  his  funeral  in  settling  the  order 
of  it,  and  naming  the  persons  that  were 
to  attend,  and  placing  them  according 
to  their  rank  and  to  the  rules  of  pre- 
cedence, which  was  the  entertainment 
she  gave  herself  every  day  till  that  sol- 
emnity was  over. 

I  know  that  in  some  libels  she  has 
been  reproached  as  one  who  indulged 
herself  in  drinking  strong  liquors,  but 
I  believe  this  was  utterly  groundless, 
and  that  she  never  went  beyond  such 
a  quantity  of  strong  wines  as  her 
physicians  judged  to  be  necessary  for 
her. 


9.    Letter  of    the   Duchess   of  Marl- 
borough "  to  Mr.  Cooke  at  the  Bank." 

April  6,  1742. 
Sir :    I   have   received   a  letter  fiom 
Mr.  Dodridge,  a  gentleman  that  I  know 
not ;  but  he  seems  to  me  to  be  a  well- 
wisher  to  my  family.      He  writes  a  good 
deal  to  me,   and   expresses  satisfaction 
in  the  reading  the  book   (a  defence  of 
herself  written  in   1742),  which  proves 
the  falsities  that  have  been  spread  by 
party  against    me ;    but    wishes  that   I 
had  added  two  things  more  to  the  clear- 
ing my  character  ;  which  are  as  follows  : 
— first,  concerning  the  King  of  Prussia, 
that  he  had  writ  a  book  in  which  he 
imputes   the    ruin  of   Europe   to    have 
happened     from     a    quarrel     between 
Queen  Anne  and   me  about  a  pair  of 
gloves.     I  did  once  hear  there  was  such 
a  book  printed,  and  that    his  Majesty 
said,  the  Queen  would  have  her  gloves 
made  before  mine,  which  I  would  not 
suffer   the   glover   to    do.      The    other 
report,  which  he  mentions,  is,  that  her 
Majesty  was  reconciled  to  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough  and  me  before  her  death. 
The  letter  does  not  mention  what  we 
did  to  compass  this  great  favour ;  but 
it  seems  to   think    it  was   from    doing 
some  very  infamous  thing.     As  to  this 
story,  I  can  only  answer  that  I   never 
heard  one  word  of  it  before  ;  that  the 
letter  says,  that  we  came  into  England,  • 
the  end  of  July,  1714;  the  Queen  died 
the  1st  of  August,  and  we  did  not  come 
into  England  until  after  her  death,  and, 
as  to  the  King  of  Prussia's  history,  I 
have  heard  it  was    some  other  person 
that  wrote  it  for  him,  and  called  it  the 
King  of  Prussia's.     I  will  not  pretend 
to  say  anything  in  contradiction  to  his 
parts  if  he  did  write  it ;  but  I  think  it 
is  impossible  for  anybody  to  answer  all 
the  nonsense  that  has  been  laid  to  the 
charge  of  kings  and  ministers,  and  as 
to  these  two  stories  there  is  not  the  least 
foundation  for  either. 


228 


The  Hanoverian  Succession 


GROUP  XXIV. 


THE    HANOVERIAN    SUCCESSION. 


i .  Letters  of  Sophia  of  Osnabruck  to 
her  Brother,  Charles  Louis  of  the  Pala- 
tinate. Translation.  (In  Brief  wechsel 
derHerzogin  Sophie.  Leipzig:  Hirzel, 
1885,  p.  361,  ff.) 

Osnabruck,  June  20,  1679. 

When  one  begins  to  grow  old  it  seems 
as  if  one  always  had  to  fight  with  some 
ill  or  other.  If  it  had  not  been  the  fever 
it  would  have  been  something  else — 
perhaps  a  leg-trouble  like  yours,  or 
Prince  Rupert's  or  the  Abbess  of  Her- 
ford's.  Such  is  the  common  fate  of 
humanity,  to  see  onesself  decay  while 
others  are  being  born  to  supersede  us, 
to  whom,  nevertheless,  we  grow  so 
strongly  attached  that  we  must  see  them 
comfortably  established  before  quitting 
them. 

Ernest  Augustus  [her  husband],  who 
often  has  bad  turns  has  taken  into  his 
head  that  he  might  die  before  his 
brothers  [John  Frederick  of  Hanover 
and  George  William  of  Celle]  and  leave 
no  fit  provision  for  his  children.  The 
Celle  people  have  now  long  been  offer- 
ing him  50,000  ecus  in  sovereignty  and 
100,000  down  if  he  will  consent  to  the 
marriage  of  my  eldest  son  [the  future 
George  I.]  with  the  daughter  of  George 
William  [Sophie  Dorothea] .  The  mar- 
riage is  repugnant  to  the  boy,  as  is  the 
d'Olbreuse  connection  to  us,  though 
Miss  Hyde  was  of  no  better  family ; 
besides  which  the  girl  has  been  twice 
legitimatized  :  these  considerations  make 
it  only  right  that  they  should  raise  the 
amount.  What  would  you  think  of 
80,000  ecus  a  year  in  sovereignty  to 
Ernest  Augustus;  ought  he  to  con- 
taminate his  ancestors  for  that,  and  is  it 
paying  them  well  enough?  And  they 
offer  that  the  whole  army  [of  Celle] 
shall  swear  allegiance  to  Ernest  Augus- 
tus, that  no  officer  shall  be  put  in  the 


fortresses  who  has  not  taken  oath  to  him,, 
and  the  whole  land  shall  do  him  hom- 
age and  obey  him  only,  even  should  sons 
be  born  to  George  William.  [The  latter 
had  married  far  beneath  him,  after  hav- 
ing been  affianced  to  Sophia  herself  and 
having  promised  all  his  lands  to  Ernest 
Augustus  if  he  would  become  his  sub- 
stitute.— Ed.]  All  this  wont  make  it 
any  more  pleasant  to  me  to  be  brother 
and  boon  companion  to  a  scoupette. 

Osnabruck,  Nov.  9,  1679. 
...  I  have  spoken  to  Mr.  Coppensten 
(an  official  of  Charles  Louis)  concern- 
ing the  proposition  that  has  been  made 
to  us  from  Celle.  It  is  a  very  bitter  pill 
to  swallow  but  if  they  have  gilded  it 
with  100,000  ecus  yearly,  in  sovereignty, 
we  will  close  our  eyes  and  take  it.  The 
example  of  the  Prince  of  Orange  makes 
it  easier  to  bear  and  Ernest  Augustus 
says  "the  Lord  is  calling  him."  My 
six  sons  are  growing  up,  he  himself  is 
in  bad  health  and  would  like  to  see  them 
well  established  and  secure  of  the  succes- 
sion so  as  to  have  his  mind  at  rest.  As 
to  me  I  find  the  matter  very  disagreeable. 

Osnabruck,  Nov.  30,  1679. 
Your  approbation  concerning  the 
"  ancestors  "  is  of  no  small  importance  ; 
kacken  gat  vor  all  and  eat  one  must,, 
even  if  the  rest  has  to  come  after. 
Nevertheless  it  is  a  disagreeable  matter, 
although  there  is  a  precedent  in  the 
marriage  of  the  prince  of  Orange  whose 
wife  is  of  no  better  birth  nor  descended 
from  a  more  chaste  mother.  Besides 
she  only  brings  him  a  kingdom  in 
prospect,  whereas  here  we  ask  like 
Jodelet :  "  Is  it  cash  down?"  And  if 
it  is  not,  that  is,  if  we  are  not  well 
assured  of  what  we  are  to  receive,  there 
will  be  no  marriage. 


The  Hanoverian  Succession 


229 


Hanover,  March  15,  1680. 
[Ernest   Augustus  has   succeeded  to 
the  duchy  of  Hanover,  by  the  death  of 
his  brother,  John  Frederick. — Ed.] 

Behold  us  arrived  in  our  princely 
palace  where  it  smokes  so  in  every 
room  that  we  weep  for  the  defunct 
without  any  difficulty  and  much  to  our 
own  discomfort.  We  have  such  a 
crowd  of  retainers  that  it  can  be  com- 
pared in  a  small  way  to  what  I  saw  at 
Fontainbleu.  If  John  Frederick  gave 
90,000  thalers  in  wages,  Ernest  Au- 
gustus will  doubtless  have  to  give  more 
than  a  hundred  thousand  ;  and,  as  he 
looks  at  this  cortege  he  can  say  to  him- 
self :  a  pretty  bill  I  shall  have  to  pay. 
When  we  go  up  or  down  one  of  the 
steps,  which  are  not  broad  enough  to 
let  a  hen  pass  in  comfort  we  have  to 
wait  an  hour  before  they  all  file  by. 
The  old  squires  whose  wages  were  a 
pair  of  boots  and  a  dinner  of  stockjisch 
did  just  as  good  service  and  were  better 
suited  to  our  palace  of  wood.  Those 
were  times  when  the  princes  sat  quietly 
round  a  table  weaving  nets,  with  their 
servants  standing  in  a  row  behind  them, 
while  the  goblet  of  Broihan  wine,  of 
which  a  cask  stood  ready  in  the  room, 
went  the  rounds  from  the  prince  to  the 
last  of  his  gentlemen  who,  with  a 
deep  bow,  brought  it  back  to  the  prince 
again.  That  is  the  way  they  passed 
their  days  in  perfect  comfort.  At 
present  Ernest  Augustus  finds  himself 
so  overwhelmed  with  matters  to  at- 
tend to  that  he  often  wishes  John  Fred- 
erick were  not  dead.  All  the  same  if 
he  were  to  come  back  he  would  act 
like  Pickelhering, — without  comparing 
them — when  he  cries  out  "  mein 
Mouder,  mein  Mouder !  "  whose  ghost 
he  sees  appearing.  I  wish  the  defunct 
might  see  all  the  ceremonies  with 
which  he  is  to  be  put  in  the  ground  : 
it  would  be  perfect  paradise  for  him. 
The  catafalque  where  the  Bishop  and 


the  capuchins  are  to  play  their  last  role 
cannot  be  ready  in  four  weeks.  Mean- 
while the  dowager  is  travelling  and  they 
would  like  to  have  everything  ready 
before  she  arrives.   .   .    . 

2.  Extract  from  Burnet. 

1689. 

.  .  .  There  was  a  bill  of  great 
importance  sent  up  by  the  commons  to 
the  lords,  that  was  not  finished  this  ses- 
sion. It  was  a  bill  declaring  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  England,  and  the  suc- 
cession to  the  crown,  as  had  been 
agreed  by  both  houses  of  parliament, 
to  the  king  and  queen  and  their  issue, 
and  after  them,  to  the  princess  Anne 
and  her  issue,  and  after  these,  to  the 
king  and  his  issue.  A  clause  was  in- 
serted, disabling  all  papists  from  suc- 
ceeding to  the  crown,  to  which  the 
lords  added,  or  such  as  should  marry 
papists.  .  .  .  The  king  ordered  me  to 
propose  the  naming  the  duchess  of 
Hanover,  and  her  posterity,  next  in  the 
succession.  He  signified  his  pleasure 
in  this  also  to  the  ministers.  But  he 
ordered  me  to  begin  the  motion  in  the 
house,  because  I  had  already  set  it  on 
foot.  And  the  duke  of  Hanover  had 
now  other  thoughts  of  the  matter,  and 
was  separating  himself  from  the  inter- 
ests of  France.  The  lords  agreed  to 
the  proposition  without  any  opposition. 
So  it  was  sent  down  to  the  commons. 
There  were  great  debates  there  upon 
it.  .  .  .  The  bill  fell  for  that  time: 
but  it  was  resolved  to  take  it  up  at  the 
opening  of  the  next  session.  And  the 
king  thought  it  was  not  then  convenient 
to  renew  the  motion  of  the  duchess  of 
Hanover,  of  which  he  ordered  me  to 
write  her  a  particular  account.  It  was 
fit  once  to  have  the  bill  passed,  that  en- 
acted the  perpetual  exclusion  of  all 
papists :  for  that,  upon  the  matter, 
brought  the  succession  to  their  door. 
And    if    any  in    the    line,   before    her, 


230 


The   Hanoverian  Succession 


should  pretend  to  change,  as  it  was  not 
very  likely  to  happen,  so  it  would  not 
be  easily  believed.  So  it  was  resolved 
to  carry  this  matter  no  further  at  this 
time.  The  bill  passed  without  any  op- 
position in  the  beginning  of  the  next 
session ;  which  I  mention  here,  that  I 
might  end  this  matter  all  at  once. 


3.  Correspondence  of  Leibnitz  and 
the  Electress  Sophia.  ( Leibnitz, Werke, 
Vol.  VIII.) 

Leibnitz  to  the  Electress. 

April  28,  1699. 

.  .  .  He,  (a  Mr.  Hakeman)  seeks 
the  privilege  of  being  presented  to  your 
Electoral  Highness.  He  can  tell  you 
particulars  about  the  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter, and  I  find  him  well-informed  ;  he 
has  also  seen  the  cleverest  people  in 
England.  He  says  that  the  English  are 
thinking  and  talking  a  great  deal  about 
the  person  and  posterity  of  your  Elec- 
toral Highness  in  the  matter  of  the  suc- 
cession, informing  themselves  carefully 
about  our  court ;  also  that  several  bish- 
ops asked  him  for  a  copy  of  an  extract 
from  a  letter  I  had  written  him  in 
which  I  had  noted  how  much  your 
Electoral  Highness  loved  the  English 
and  how  you  were  for  a  reasonable 
freedom  of  thought  both  in  ecclesiasti- 
cal and  civil  matters.  And  he  will  be 
able  to  say  still  more.   .    .    . 

The  Electress  to  Leibnitz. 

Herrenhausen,  Aug.  iS,  1700. 
...  They  say  that  the  Duke  of 
Celle  will  go  to  Loo,  where  he  can 
console  the  King  for  the  loss  of  the 
Duke  of  Gloucester,  who  decamped 
three  days  after  they  had  celebrated  his 
birthday.  I  hope  that  the  pleasures  of 
Lietzenburg  will  succeed  better  and 
have  better  results.  ...  If  I  were 
younger  I  might  be  flattered  at  the  idea 
of  a  crown,  but  at  present,  if  I  had  the 
choice,  I  should  prefer  increasing  my 
years  to  increasing  my  glory. 


Stepney,   an   English  Eriend,  to  the 
Electress. 
London,  Sept.  11-21,  1700. 

...  It  is  to  your  Electoral  High- 
ness, then,  that  we  must  look  for  the 
assurance  ©f  our  repose  and  safety,  and 
would  to  Heaven,  Madame,  that  I  could 
take  off  twenty  years  of  my  own  life 
and  make  you  a  present  of  them.  .  .  . 
Electress  Sophia  to  Stepney. 

(Without  date.) 

Sir :  I  have  read  with  much  pleasure 
the  book  and  your  letter ;  I  would  the 
arguments  were  as  probable  of  the  one 
as  the  other  is  obliging  towards  me, 
and  that  I  might  live  long  enough  to 
requite  by  services  the  affection  which 
you  show  me,  without  derrogating  a 
moment  from  your  years,  with  which 
you  seem  to  me  to  be  inclined  to  be  too 
liberal.  Certainly  amiability  could  not 
go  further.   .   .   . 

Were  I  thirty  years  younger  I  should 
have  a  good  enough  opinion  of  my 
blood  and  my  religion  to  imagine  they 
would  think  of  me  in  England.  But 
as  there  is  little  chance  of  my  surviving 
two  persons  much  younger,  although 
in  poorer  health  than  myself,  it  is  to 
be  feared  that  after  my  death  they  will 
regard  my  sons  as  strangers,  the  elder, 
indeed,  being  much  more  inclined  to 
play  the  sovereign  than  the  poor  prince 
of  Wales  [the  Pretender],  who  is  too 
young  to  profit  by  the  example  of  the 
King  of  France,  and  who  would  be 
likely  to  be  so  glad  at  recovering  what 
the  King  his  father  inconsiderately  lost 
that  they  might  do  whatever  they  pleased 
with  him.  .But  Prevention  does  every- 
thing in  England,  and  to  keep  to  what 
you  say  about  it,  without  starting  in  to 
discuss  it  by  letter  I  would  say  that  my 
daughter  has  dragged  me  here,  where 
she  has  been  taking  the  waters  for  three 
weeks  and  that  we  start  Monday  to  go 
by  way  of  Brussels  to  Holland,  where 


- 

IHif 

Hi  HI 

V  '  ^'.'r'"  .     ,:, 

»> .  ■ 

.  tLauscu 

ne  er  ircn 

eve  ckex     U.IRC  MlCUEl  Boi  S$tm 

,»•  tfaput 

The   Hanoverian   Succession 


231 


we  shall  have  the  honor  of  seeing  the 
King. 

I  am  neither  so  philosophical  nor  so 
giddy  as  you  might  think  not  to  like 
to  hear  this  matter  of  a  crown  dis- 
cussed, and  to  reflect  on  your  sound 
arguments  on  the  subject.  It  seems  to 
me  that  in  England  there  are  so  many 
factions  one  can  be  sure  of  nothing. 
That  does  not  keep  me  from  feeling 
very  much  obliged  to  those  who  show 
attachment  to  me  and  my  descendants, 
and  as  regards  you  in  particular  I  shall 
remember  it  all  my  life.   .    .   . 

4.  Unsigned  and  undated  Letter, 
in  English,  to  the  Electress  Sophia. 

Madam  :  I  have  of  late  forborn  im- 
portuning you  by  my  letters,  being 
rather  desirous  to  show  my  zeal  by  ser- 
vices than  by  words.  To-morrow 
comes  on  the  grand  debate  which  is  to 
decide  the  point  of  succession  whereon 
depend  the  hopes  of  all  honest  men.  I 
am  not  of  the  parliament,  but  have  had 
a  greater  opportunity  (than  if  I  had  been 
in  the  House)  to  promote,  as  far  as  a 
private  man  can  do,  the  interest  of  Your 
Electoral  Highness  and  your  family, 
being  equally  acquainted  with  both 
parties,  and  having  thereby  a  singular 
occasion  of  discovering  their  different 
designs  and  inclinations.  That  Your 
Highness  may  perceive  I  am  no  stranger 
to  them,  I  beg  leave  to  represent  you 
the  method  wherein  I  believe  the  House 
will  proceed. 

The  party  which  has  been  known  by 
the  name  of  Whigs  (not  to  mention  par- 
ticular names)  will  propose  the  question 
as  follows  : — 

"it  is  the  opinion  of  this  committy 
"  that  for  the  peace  and  happiness  of 
14  England  and  for  the  security  of  the 
"  protestant  religion  it  is  absolutely 
"  necessary  that  a  further  declar- 
"  at  ion  of  the  Limitation  and  suc- 
cession of  the  Crown    of  England 


"  be  made  in  the  Protestant  Line 
"after  the  King  and  the  Princess 
"  and  the  failure  of  the  Heirs  of  their 
"  Bodies  respectively. 
The  words  :  "Further  declaration  in 
the  protestant  line"  will  furnish  some 
matter  of  dispute,  and  the  Tories  will 
raise  objections.  But  if  they  continue 
violent,  the  Whigs  will  propose  an 
hampering  question  to  this  effect :  "  that 
for  the  quieting  the  minds  of  His  Maj- 
esty's protestant  subjects  and  the  better 
ascertaining  the  succession  of  the  Crown 
pursuant  to  an  Act  declaring  the  Rights 
and  Liberties  of  the  subjects  and  set- 
tling the  succession  of  the  Crown,  pro- 
vision be  made  by  express  words  for 
excluding  any  child  or  pretended  child 
of  the  late  King  James,  other  than  the 
Princess  Anne  of  Denmark." —  This 
will  certainly  be  carried  by  a  majority, 
for  whatever  people  may  be  in  their 
hearts,  few  will  appear  so  open  at  this 
time  as  to  declare  for  St.  Germains, 
which  those  do  in  effect  who  dissent 
from  the  question  as  it  is  here  stated. 

A  weak  effort  wjll  be  made  in  favour 
of  the  person  of  prince  George,  suppos- 
ing he  should  survive  the  Princess  of 
Denmark.  Your  Electoral  Highness 
will  easily  imagine  that  this  motion 
proceeds  from  creatures  of  the  Marl- 
borough family.  But  their  interest  is 
not  of  any  weight,  besides  the  preten- 
sion is  groundless.  But  from  that  error 
we  shall  be  led  into  the  right  channel, 
and  come  into  the  direct  protestant 
Line,  beginning  from  your  Electoral 
Highness  as  the  root,  then  to  the 
Elector  and  the  Electoral  prince.  This 
I  am  as  morally  assured  of,  as  it  is  pos- 
sible to  be  in  a  matter  of  this  nature, 
which  depends  on  the  humours  and 
wills  of  513  members.  It  is  our  happi- 
ness that  the  major  part  of  them  are 
honest  and  true  to  the  interest  of  their 
country,  and  those  that  are  otherwise, 
will  only  discover  their  ill-will. 


232 


The  Hanoverian  Succession 


I  forbear  mentioning  the  other  princes 
of  Your  Highness'  family.  The  two 
who  are  at  Vienna  seem  to  obstruct  (at 
least  for  the  present)  a  further  entail 
upon  a  suggestion  which,  I  am  per- 
suaded, is  very  malicious,  as  if  they 
were  not  firm  to  the  protestant  religion, 
which  is  the  foundation  of  this  debate. 
This  is  an  unhappy  accident,  but  what 
I  have  already  mentioned,  is  a  sufficient 
provision  for  the  present  and  will  be 
matter  of  comfort  to  all  good  men. 

The  contents  of  this  letter  are  of  so 
delicate  a  nature  at  this  conjuncture  and 
till  the  parliament  has  actually  declared 
their  opinion,  that  I  beg  leave  to  con- 
ceal my  name  :  my  hand  and  heart  have 
the  honour  to  be  known  to  your  Elect- 
oral Highness,  and  no  man  living  can 
be  with  more  zeal  and  veneration, 
Madam, Your  Electoral  Highness'  most 
humble  and  most  obedient  servant. 

Stepney  to  Leibnitz. 

Vienna,  May  i,  1701. 
.  .  .  The  matter  of  which  your  letter 
treats  [the  vote  of,  parliament],  was 
concluded  exactly  the  day  that  I  left 
London,  and  in  the  way  which  I  sup- 
posed it  would  in  the  second  letter 
which  I  had  the  honour  of  writing  to 
the  Electress  on  this  subject.  I  have 
just  been  congratulating  her  with  all 
my  heart;  for  besides  the  advantage 
which  will  accrue  to  her  house  through 
this  declaration  of  Parliament,  I  look 
upon  it  as  the  best  step  which  our 
nation  could  take  to  secure  our  religion 
and  our  quiet,  in  spite  of  the  anger 
which  the  Duke  of  Savoy  and  others 
may  feel ;  for  it  is  beyond  all  doubt 
that  a  disposition  made  by  a  King  full 
of  life  and  good  sense,  with  the  con- 
sent of  the  States  of  the  realm,  is  a 
hundred  times  more  valid  than  that 
which  has  just  been  made  by  a  Prince 
weak  in  every  respect  and  a  cabal  of 
interested  people. 


The  English  nation  was  so  well  dis- 
posed to  the  succession,  at  the  King's 
recommendation,  that  there  was  no 
need  of  pamphlets  to  prepare  men's 
minds,  or  of  men  of  talent  to  conduct 
the  affair ;  otherwise  I  am  persuaded 
that  they  could  not  have  chosen  for  that 
service  a  person  more  capable  than 
yourself.  .  .  .  Since  the  affair  has  gone 
off  so  well,  we  have  all  the  better 
reason  to  be  satisfied. 


5.  Extract  from  Burnet. 

i7°5- 

.  .  .  The  most  important  debates 
that  were  in  this  session  began  in  the 
house  of  lords  ;  the  queen  being  present 
at  them  all.  The  lord  Haversham  .  .  . 
said  we  had  declared  a  successor  to 
the  crown  who  was  at  a  great  distance 
from  us,  while  the  pretender  was  much 
nearer,  and  Scotland  was  armed  and 
ready  to  receive  him,  and  seemed  re- 
solved not  to  have  the  same  successor 
for  whom  England  had  declared  :  these 
were  threatening  dangers  that  hung 
over  us,  and  might  be  near  us.  He 
concluded,  that  he  did  not  see  how  they 
could  be  prevented,  and  the  nation  made 
safe,  by  any  other  way,  but  by  inviting 
the  next  successor  to  come  and  live 
among  us.  .  .  .  It  appeared,  through 
our  whole  history,  that  whosoever  came 
first  into  England  had  always  carried 
it :  the  pretending  successor  might  be 
in  England  within  three  days,  whereas 
it  might  be  three  weeks  before  the  de- 
clared successor  could  come :  from 
thence  it  was  inferred,  that  the  danger 
was  apparent  and  dreadful,  if  the  suc- 
cessor should  not  be  brought  over :  if 
King  Charles  had  been  in  Spain  when 
the  late  king  died,  probably  that  would 
have  prevented  all  this  war  in  which 
we  were  now  engaged.   .   .   . 

The  queen  heard  the  debate,  and 
seemed  amazed  at  the  behaviour  of 
some,  who,  when  they  had  credit  with 


The   Hanoverian  Succession 


233 


"her,  and  apprehended  that  such  a 
motion  might  be  made  by  the  whigs, 
had  possessed  her  with  deep  prejudices 
against  it :  for  they  made  her  appre- 
hend, that  when  the  next  successor 
should  be  brought  over,  she  herself 
would  be  so  eclipsed  by  it,  that  she 
would  be  much  in  the  successor's 
power,  and  reign  only  at  her  or  his 
courtesy  :  yet  these  very  persons,  hav- 
ing now  lost  their  interest  in  her,  and 
their  posts,  were  driving  on  that  very 
motion,  which  they  had  made  her  ap- 
prehend was  the  most  fatal  thing  that 
could  befall.  This  the  Duchess  of 
Marlborough  told  me,  but  she  named 
no  person.   .    .   . 

Some  indigent  persons,  and  others 
■employed  by  the  tories,  had  studied  to 
infuse  jealousies  of  the  queen  and  her 
ministers  into  the  old  electress.  She 
was  then  seventy-five ;  but  had  still  so 
much  vivacity,  that  as  she  was  the 
most  knowing,  and  the  most  entertain- 
ing woman  of  the  age,  so  she  seemed 
willing  to  change  her  scene,  and  to 
come  and  shine  among  us  here  in  Eng- 
land ;  they  prevailed  with  her  to  write 
a  letter  to  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
intimating  her  readiness  to  come  over, 
if  the  queen  and  parliament  should  de- 
sire it ;  this  was  made  public  by  the  in- 
triguing persons  in  that  court. 


6.  Letter  of  the  Electress  Sophia  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  Trans- 
lation. 

Herrenhausen,  Nov.  5,  1705. 

My  Lord  :  .  .  .  I  thank  Heaven  that 
I  am  in  good  health  and  that  I  live  here 
in  peace  and  quiet,  so  that  I  have  no 
reason  to  wish  for  a  different  kind  of 
life,  so  far  as  I  personally  am  concerned. 

However  I  am  i-eady  to  do  anything 
that  my  friends  desire  of  me  in  case 
Parliament  should  think  it  necessary  for 
me  to  ci-oss  the  water.  In  that  case  I 
trust  such  measures  could  be  taken  that 
my  arrival  would  in  no  way  be  unpleas- 


ant for  the  Queen,  whom  I  shall  never 
cease  to  honor,  and  that  I  am  eager  for 
the  favour  of  which  she  has  given  me  so 
many  proofs  by  what  she  has  done 
for  me  in  England  and  Scotland,  you 
yourself  can  best  bear  witness  ;  and  it  is 
with  much  pleasure  that  I  learn  that  her 
Majesty  has  ordered  my  name  to  be 
inserted  in  the  prayers  in  the  churches. 


7.  Letter  of  Leibnitz  to  the  Rheingra- 
vine,  Lady  of  the  Household  of  the 
Electress. 

Wolfenbuttel,  Sept.  1,  171 2. 
Madame  :  I  take  the  liberty  of  send- 
ing your  Excellency  the  enclosed  English 
memorandum  to  be  communicated  to  the 
Electress  as  a  mark  of  my  devotion.  It 
is  sent  me  by  a  former  German  acquaint- 
ance who  resides  in  England  and  has 
been  drawn  up,  he  says,  by  a  lawyer  of 
skill  and  reputation,  who,  with  his 
friends  is  very  loyal  to  the  House  of 
Hanover.  His  name  is  Roger  Acherly 
Esquire.    .   .   . 

Memoir. 

Sept.  1,  1 71 2. 
That  in  regard  the  Queen  of  Great 
Britain  has  solemnly  declared  from  the 
Throne  :  that  the  securing  the  succession 
to  that  House  lyes  nearest  her  Heart, 
and  that  she  has  taken  care,  that  the 
Person  who  pretends  to  disturb  it,  be 
removed  out  of  the  French  Dominions  : 
Now  in  regard  these  expressions  are 
general : 

Let  it  be  insisted  ott  at  the  General 
Treaty  of  Peace  (  Utrecht}  on  the 
part  of  the  House  of  Hanover :  That 
the  successor,  or  otie  or  more  of  that 
House,  may  have  a  House  and  a 
Revenue  assigned  to  them  in  Eng- 
land, and  may  have  an  Attorney 
General  and  other  Officers  assigned 
to  them  to  take  care  of  their  Affairs, 
as  the  first  Princes  of  the  Blood. 
This  will  try  those  Ministers  who 
advised  the  Queen  to  make  that  speech, 


234 


The   Hanoverian  Succession 


whether  they  really  meant  anything  for 
the  Good  of  the  House  of  Hanover  or 
not. 

If  the  British  Plenipotentiaries  oppose 
such  a  reasonable  Article, 

Then  the  House  of  Hanover  may 
take  their  measures.  If  it  be  reason- 
able to  insist  that  the  Pretender  should 
be  removed  out  of  the  Dominions  of  the 
Enemy  (France),  it  is  as  reasonable  to 
insist  that  the  Rightfull  Successor  should 
have  a  Room  and  be  within  the  Domin- 
ions he  is  entitled  to. 

The  presence  of  the  next  Successor 
would  encourage  and  inspirit  his  Fi-iends 
and  discourage  his  Enemies.  Posses- 
sion in  this  case  is  of  inestimable  advan- 
tage. The  refusal  of  such  a  Reasonable 
Demand  would  give  the  successor  a  very 
good  colour  to  complaine  and  would 
load  his  enemies  with  obloquy,  as 
secretly  endeavouring  to  deprive   him. 

Leibnitz  to  the  Electress  Sophia. 
(Undated.) 

...  They  keep  saying  that  the  Queen 
of  Great  Britain  is  dead.  I  shall  not 
believe  it  until  she  is  buried.  It  would 
be  a  queer  idea  of  the  good  God  to  give 
her  your  Electoral  Highness  as  succes- 
sor. Altogether,  Madame,  God' s  good- 
ness towards  you  is  so  great  that  one 
need  not  give  up  hoping.  Your  Elec- 
toral Highness  and  I  (if  I  may  dare  to 
include  myself )  will  wait  very  patiently 
for  what  He  has  decreed  about  it.  Un- 
less one  of  those  gentlemen  of  the 
British  ministry  writes  to  your  Electoral 
Highness  I  will  not  believe  that  the 
Queen  is  so  far  gone. 

The  Electress  Sophia  to  Leibnitz. 
Hanover,  April  27,  1713. 
.  .  .  Poor  Dr.  Hutton  had  so 
often  preached  to  me  that  the  Queen 
could  not  live.  She  is  well,  while  he 
is  already  in  the  other  world.  I  be- 
lieve I  remain  so  long  in  this  one  be- 
cause I  keep  my  mind  so  tranquil.     I 


have  lost  so  many  children  from  my 
sight,  yet  their  loss  touches  me  as  little 
as  could  well  be  the  case.  I  have  also 
to  console  myself  for  the  fact  that  the 
one  who  is  living  (George  I.)  can  not 
bear  the  sight  of  me  any  more  and 
wishes  to  live  as  if  he  were  dead  to 
me.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  I  think  he 
is  in  the  hands  of  the  Devil  who  does 
wicked  things  with  him,  while  the 
others  are  with  the  good  God. 

The  Electress  Sophia  to  Leibnitz. 
Hanover,  Dec.  27,  17 13. 
You  may  be  sure,  Sir,  that  of  all  the 
letters  this  festal  time  has  procured  me 
yours  has  been  the  most  welcome.  You 
do  well  to  begin  your  good  wishes  with 
the  throne  of  England,  for  in  truth 
they  are  there  most  needed,  and  in  spite 
of  all  the  fine  things  your  newspapers 
tell  you,  it  seems  to  me  every  thing  is- 
going  from  bad  to  worse.  As  for  me, 
I  am  a  woman  and  love  to  flatter  my- 
self and  I  hope  that  the  worst  of  mat- 
ters will  turn  out  to  the  advantage  of 
the  family.  I  accept  your  comparison 
with  Queen  Elizabeth,  although  it  does 
me  too  much  honor,  as  of  good  au- 
gury. Her  right  was  disputed  by  a 
jealous  and  ill-humored  sister  and  she 
was  never  sure  of  it  until  she  came  to 
the  throne. 

The  Electress  Sophia  to  Leibnitz. 
Hanover,  Feb.  29,  17 14. 
.  .  .  The  romance  of  the  Princess 
Eleanor  has  at  last  ended  with  marriage 
and  will  have  a  fine  place,  as  he  tells 
me,  in  the  Duke  of  Brunswick's  novel, 
at  which  he  is  still  working  so  as  to 
finish  it  before  his  death.  As  for 
mine,  it  would  be  more  glorious  if, 
according  to  your  wishes,  my  bones 
might  be  interred  at  Westminster. 
.  .  .  All  this  talk  of  the  succession 
vexes  and  annoys  me.  So  many  books 
are  written  for  or  against  that  I  dont 
take  the  trouble  to  look  at  them.   .   .   . 


Viro     NoViiiftimo  lOATSTNl  "\VALHAVEK5eremfiimi  Electori 
[Brutiiviceni\«  et  Lunebwr  Oenila     Con.fi I tari  o  Eiusqw  R/eiicienti  Amilel*t*«i«ajii  D.D  . 


The   Hanoverian  Succession 


235 


March  7. 
.   .   .     Queen    Anne     is     splendidly 
well.     She  will  have  to  hurry  up  and 
die  if  I  am  to  be  queen  as  you  desire. 

Leibnitz    to     the    Electress    Sophia. 

April  7,  1 7 14. 
...  If  Mr.  Harley  is  delayed  by 
the  weight  of  the  chests  of  silver  he  is 
bringing  to  enable  your  Electoral  High- 
ness to  have  a  fine  English  court,  as 
they  say  he  is  in  the  papers,  we  will 
pardon  him  his  slowness.  ...  If  he 
merely  comes  to  preach  to  us  that  the 
Protestant  succession  is  in  no  danger 
he  might  have  kept  his  arguments  for 
the  Coffee-houses  of  London. 

The  Electress  to  Leibnitz. 
Hanover,  May  20th,  17 14. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Harley' s  mission  con- 
sisted only  in  letters  of  the  Queen  and 
my  Lord  of  Oxford  who  say  very  posi- 
tively that  her  Majesty  is  altogether  in 
favor  of  furthering  the  Protestant  re- 
ligion by  the  succession  in  our  house — 
this  in  the  most  explicit  terms  that 
could  be  employed.  Nevertheless  the 
people  thought  Harley  had  come  to  in- 
vite me  to  go  to  England  ;  of  which 
indeed  there  was  not  the  least  mention. 
...  I  did  however,  order  Baron 
Schiitz  to  ask  the  chancellor  if  the 
Electoral  Prince  [later  George  II]  as 
Duke  of  Cambridge  ought  not  to  have 
a  writ  of  summons  to  parliament.  The 
Chancellor  .  .  .  sent  the  writ  to 
Schiitz.  But  afterwards  the  Queen 
had  Cotterel  forbid  him  the  Court. 
.  .  .  Mr.  Harley  offered  me  a  pen- 
sion from  the  Queen,  which  I  was  hon- 
est enough  to  refuse,  saying  that  I  de- 
sired one  by  the  good  pleasure  of  her 
Majesty  and  the  parliament,  as  heir 
presumptive  of  the  throne,  in  imitation 
of  her  Majesty,  who  did  the  same 
when  she  was  offered  one  by  King 
William.  .  .  .  The  Queen  seems  to 
be    pretty  well,  and,  according   to  the 


Flemish  proverb  "  creaking  carts  go 
far."  As  to  me,  I  consider  myself  in 
much  greater  danger,  being  past  83, 
although  feeling  splendidly  for  that. 

9.  Letter  of  Queen  Anne  to  the 
Elector  of  Hanover  (George  I.).  (In 
Macpherson's  Original  Papers.  Lon- 
don,   1775.  Vol.  II.  p.  621.) 

May  19-30,  1714. 
As  the  rumour  increases,  that  my 
cousin,  the  Electoral  Prince,  has  re- 
solved to  come  over  to  settle,  in  my  life 
time,  in  my  dominions  I  do  not  choose 
to  delay  a  moment  to  write  to  you 
about  this,  and  to  communicate  to  you 
my  sentiments,  upon  a  subject  of  this 
importance. 

I  then  freely  own  to  you,  that  I 
cannot  imagine,  that  a  prince  who 
possesses  the  knowledge  and  penetra- 
tion of  your  Electoral  Highness,  can 
ever  contribute  to  such  an  attempt ;  and 
that  I  believe  you  are  too  just  to  allow, 
that  any  infringement  shall  be  made  on 
my  sovereignty  which  you  would  not 
choose  should  be  made  on  your  own. 
I  am  firmly  persuaded  that  you  would 
not  suffer  the  smallest  diminution  of 
your  authority.  I  am  no  less  delicate 
in  that  respect ;  >  and  I  am  determined 
to  oppose  a  project  so  contrary  to  my 
royal  authority,  however  fatal  the  con- 
sequences may  be. 

Your  Electoral  Highness  is  too  just 
to  refuse  to  bear  me  witness,  that  I 
gave,  on  all  occasions,  proofs  of  my 
desire  that  your  family  should  succeed 
to  my  crowns,  which  I  always  recom- 
mend to  my  people  as  the  most  solid 
support  of  their  religion  and  their  laws. 
I  employ  all  my  attentions  that  nothing 
should  efface  those  impressions  from 
the  hearts  of  my  subjects  :  but  it  is  not 
possible  to  derogate  from  the  dignity 
and  prerogatives  of  the  prince  who 
wears  the  crown,  without  making  a 
dangerous  breach  on  the  rights  of  the 
successors ;     therefore,    I    doubt     not. 


236 


The  Hanoverian  Succession 


but  with  your  usual  wisdom,  you  will 
prevent  the  taking  such  a  step ;  and 
that  you  will  give  me  an  opportunity  of 
renewing  to  you,  assurances  of  the 
most  sincere  friendship  with  which 
I  am,  etc. 

Dean  Swift  to  the  Earl  of  Peterbor- 
ough. 

(Swift's  Works.    Sir  Walter  Scott's 
Edition.     Vol.  XVI.  p.  109.) 

London,  May  18,  17 14. 
...  I  was  told,  the  other  day,  of  an 
answer  you  made  to  somebody  abroad, 
who  inquired  of  you  the  state  and  dis- 
positions of  our  court:  "That  you 
could  not  tell,  for  you  had  been  out  of 
England  a  fortnight."  .  .  .  The  queen 
is  pretty  well  at  present ;  but  the  least 
disorder  she  has  puts  all  in  alarm  ;  and 
when  it  is  over,  we  act  as  if  she  were 
immortal.  ...  It  is  impossible  to  tell 
you  whether  the  Prince  of  Hanover  in- 
tends to  come  over  or  not.  I  should 
think  the  latter,  by  the  accounts  I  have 
seen ;  yet  our  adversaries  continue 
strenuously  to  assert  otherwise.  .  .  . 
This  formidable  journey  is  the  per- 
petual subject  both  of  court  and  coffee- 
house chat. 


10.  Letters  of  Mr.  Molyneux,  an 
Envoy,  to  Lord  Marlborough.  (In 
Coxe  :  Marlborough,  Vol.  VI.  p.   281.) 

Hanover,  Thursday,  June  7,  17 14. 

I  am  directed  by  the  electress  to  send 
your  grace  the  inclosed,  which  arrived 
in  Hanover,  by  express,  on  Tuesday, 
but  were  not  delivered  till  yesterday  at 
noon.  I  have  not  time,  or  I  had  trans- 
lated the  queen's  for  you  ;  but  my  lord 
will  explain  them  to  you,  and  let  you 
know  that  there  is  no  hand  villainous 
enough  to  write  them,  but  that  one 
from  whence  they  come.  This  court 
is  so  openly  honest  in  their  proceedings, 
that  they  would  be  glad  to  disperse 
these  letters  among  their  friends  in 
England ;     whereas    their    correspond- 


ence is  so  false  and  hidden,  as  that  the 
express  declared,  till  the  moment  the 
letters  were  read,  that  they  were  to  in- 
vite the  prince  over,  and  I  would  lay 
my  life  the  ministers  declare  the  same 
in  London. 

Hanover,  June  10,  1714. 
The  last  post  I  finished  my  letters 
about  six  in  the  evening.  Not  an  hour 
after  the  post  went,  I  went  directly 
afterwards  to  Herrenhausen,  the  coun- 
try house  of  the  court,  and  there  the 
first  thing  I  heard  was,  that  the  good 
old  electress  was  just  dying  in  one  of 
the  public  walks.  I  ran  up  there  and 
found  her  just  expiring  in  the  arms  of 
the  poor  electoral  princess,  and  amidst 
the  tears  of  a  great  many  of  her  ser- 
vants, who  endeavoured  in  vain  to  help 
her.  I  can  give  you  no  account  of  her 
illness,  but  that  I  believe  the  chagrin  of 
those  villainous  letters  I  sent  you  last 
post  has  been  in  a  great  measure  the 
cause  of  it.  The  Rheingravine,  who 
has  been  with  her  these  fifteen  years, 
has  told  me  she  never  knew  any  thing 
make  so  deep  an  impression  on  her 
as  the  affair  of  the  prince's  journey, 
which,  I  am  sure,  she  had  to  the  last 
degree  at  heart ;  and  she  has  done  me 
the  honour  to  tell  me  so  twenty  times. 
In  the  midst  of  this  concern  those 
letters  arrived,  and  those  I  verily  be- 
lieve have  broke  her  heart,  and  brought 
her  with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  The 
letters  were  delivered  on  Wednesday 
at  noon.  That  evening  when  I  came 
to  court,  she  was  at  cards,  but  was  so 
full  of  these  letters,  that  she  got  up  and 
ordered  me  to  follow  her  into  the 
garden,  where  she  gave  them  to  me  to 
read,  and  walked,  and  spoke  a  great 
deal  in  relation  to  them.  I  believe  she 
walked  three  hours  that  night.  The 
next  morning,  which  was  Thursday,  I 
heard  she  was  out  of  order ;  and  on 
going  immediately  to  court,  she  ordered 
me  to  be  called  into  her  bedchamber. 


The  Hanoverian  Succession 


237 


She  gave  me  the  letters  I  sent  you  to 
copy  ;  she  bid  me  send  them  next  post, 
and  bring  them  afterwards  to  her  to 
court.  T/hat  was  on  Friday.  In  the 
morning  on  Friday,  they  told  me  she 
was  very  well,  but  seemed  very  cha- 
grined. She  was  dressed,  and  dined 
with  the  elector  as  usual.  About  four 
she  did  me  the  honour  to  send  me  to 
town,  for  some  other  copies  of  the 
same  letters,  and  then  she  was  still 
perfectly  well.  She  worked  and  talked 
very  heartily  in  the  Orangerie.  After 
that,  and  about  six,  she  went  out  to 
walk  in  the  gardens,  and  was  still  very 
well.     A  shower  of  rain  came,  and  as 


she  was  walking  pretty  fast,  to  get  to 
shelter,  they  told  her  she  walked  a  little 
too  fast.  She  answered,  "  I  believe  I 
do,"  and  dropped  down  in  saying  those 
words,  which  were  her  last.  They 
raised  her  up,  chaffed  her  with  spirits, 
tried  to  bleed  her ;  but  it  was  all  in 
vain,  and  when  I  came  up  to  her,  she 
was  as  dead  as  if  she  had  been  four 
days  so.  No  princess  ever  died  more 
regretted,  and  I  infinitely  pity  those 
servants,  that  have  known  her  a  long 
time,  when  I  that  have  had  the  honour 
to  be  known  to  her  but  a  month,  can 
scarce  refrain  from  tears  in  relating 
this. 


GROUP  XXV. 


GEORGE    I.     AND    THE    PRINCESS    OF    AHLDEN. 


i.  An  Account  of  the  Divorce  of 
George  of  Hanover  from  Sophia  Doro- 
thea of  Celle.  Published  in  1695.  (In 
Historische  Zeitschrift,  Vol.  48,  p. 
232.)       Translated. 

[The  emendations  in  italics  were 
made  by  Madame,  the  Duchess  of  Or- 
leans, and  the  well-known  Leibnitz. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  they  were 
both  warm  friends  of  the  House  of  Han- 
over. The  whole  matter  of  Konigs- 
mark's  disappearance  is  shrouded  in 
mystery.  The  guilt  of  the  Princess  is 
an  open  question.  This  account  is  the 
least  distorted  and  the  most  moderate 
of  any  that  has  come  down  to  us.  The 
details  that  ordinarily  pass  current  to- 
day are  taken  from  a  novel  written  by 
the  Duke  of  Brunswick- Wolfenbuttel. 
The  "  Memoirs  of  Sophia  Dorothea" 
are  an  arrant  forgery. — Ed.] 

When  the  Duchess  of  Celle  [Eleo- 
nora  D'Olbi-euse]  was  called  plain 
Madame  de  Harburg  they  had  thought 
of  marrying  her  daughter  to  young 
Count  Konigsmark,  inasmuch  as  they 
had  loved  each  other  from  childhood. 


(  The  late  Countess  Konigsmark  when 
she  was  at  Hamburg  had  taken  steps 
in  this  matter  with  regard  to  the 
Count's  older  brother  who  died  in  the 
Morea;  but  they  were  only  children 
then  and  they  would  not  hear  of  the 
proposition  at  Celle.)  But  Chancellor 
Schutz,  for  his  own  private  advantage, 
furthered  that  of  Madame  of  Celle  to 
the  extent  of  having  her  daughter  de- 
clared countess  (princess,  rather*)  and 
engaged  to  the  young  prince  of  Wol- 
fenbuttel who  was  killed  before  Philips- 
burg.  The  prince  of  Nassau,  governor 
of  Friesland,  then  tried  to  get  her  by  the 
intrigues  of  a  certain  Villiers,  and  the 
mother  entered  into  it  to  some  extent. 
But  the  Duke  of  Hanover  [Ernest 
Augustus]  being  informed  of  it  and 
fearing  that  the  rich  dowry  which  the 
duke  of  Celle  [George  William]  meant 
to  give  his  daughter  might  escape  him, 
made  up  his  mind  at  last  to  the  marriage 
he  had  long  scorned,  and  one  fine  day 
the  duchess  of  Hanover  [Sophia]  went 
to  the  duke  of  Celle,  who  was  still  in 
bed  to  declare    this   resolution   to   him 


238      George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden 


and  to  demand  his  daughter  in  marriage 
for  her  son  [George  I.]  {A falsehood. 
The  elect ress  of  Brunswick  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  this  marriage,  of  which 
she  did  not  approve.')  The  affair  was 
soon  settled,  and  one  of  the  conditions 
of  the  match  was  that  there  should 
henceforward  be  the  right  of  primogen- 
iture. [Hanover  and  Celle  were  to 
form  one  duchy,  which  should  not  be 
subdivided  among  the  heirs. — Ed.] 
Thus  the  marriage  was  consummated 
rather  from  motives  of  interest  than 
from  affection.  {Falsehood.  The 
prince  really  loved  his  wife.)  [But 
consult  Sophia' sown  letters  ! — Ed.]  But 
this  constraint  was  soon  thrown  aside  ; 
they  began  to  show  coldness  to  the 
princess  and  soon  treated  her  with  in- 
dignity. The  prince  considered  her 
his  inferior,  and  being  quick-tempered 
did  not  keep  his  hands  off  her.  The 
guards  noticed  it,  and  they  say  he  even 
drew  his  sword.  They  reproached  the 
princess  with  her  birth  ;  she  complained 
of  it  to  her  father  and  mother.  But  the 
mother  could  only  urge  her  to  be  patient, 
and  the  father  said  a  woman  ought  to 
adapt  herself  to  the  disposition  of  her 
husband.  (As  many  falsehoods  as 
there  are  words.  They  treated  her 
with  all  the  regard  imaginable  [Oh 
no,  they  did  not! — Ed.]  the  electoral 
prince  took  good  care  not  to  beat  her. 
Those  who  believe  or  write  such  things 
do  not  in  the  least  know  the  prince, 
or  rather  do  not  know  the  way  in 
which  persons  of  this  quality  live. 
The  most  that  could  have  happened  is 
that  when  the  princess  had  committed 
many  improper  actions  the  prince  may 
have  said  a  few  sharp  words  to  her. 
It  is  true  she  sometimes  complained  to 
her  father  and  mother,  heaping  up 
falsehoods ,  for  there  was  much  malice 
in  her  nature.  Moreover  they  would 
never  have  believed  her  so  guilty  at 
Celle    if    her    letters    had    not    been 


produced.)  In  the  meanwhile  Count 
Konigsmark  came  to  take  service  in 
Hanover  and  the  old  feeling  of  tender- 
ness revived.  He  ruined  himself  in 
balls  and  gifts  that  he  might  find  oppor- 
tunities to  speak  to  the  princess  but  was 
chiefly  able  to  recover  his  place  in  her 
affections  because  the  princess  was  not 
happy.  It  happened  in  the  interval 
that  the  intrigues  of  the  princes  Max- 
imilian and  Charles  [George's  younger 
brothers]  were  discovered  and  that  the 
idea  was  conceived,  for  the  better  es- 
tablishing of  the  primogeniture,  of  hav- 
ing the  ninth  electorate  founded.  The 
endeavor  was  dashed  at  Augsburg  by 
the  opposition  of  the  duke  of  Celle. 
They  then  set  to  work  to  win  him  over. 
M.  Grote  had  in  vain  endeavoured  to 
make  this  duke  abdicate,  but  at  any  rate 
they  gained  his  consent  to  the  electorate. 
[It  was  established  in  1692. —  Ed.] 
(Falsehood.  They  took  good  care  not 
to  make  any  s?4ch  proposition  to  the 
Duke  of  Celle.)  During  this  time  they 
were  quite  amiable  to  the  princess  in 
order  not  to  vex  her  father.  But  once 
having  gained  the  investiture  with  the 
electorate  they  went  back  to  their  old 
manner  of  treatment.  Countess  Platen 
[Mistress  of  Ernest  Augustus]  had 
shown  great  attentions  to  Konigsmark, 
to  bring  him  to  marry  her  daughter, 
but  when  she  saw  she  was  being  looked 
upon  as  a  dupe  she  set  to  work  to  re- 
venge herself.  In  order  to  foster  the 
bad  state  of  affairs  between  the  prince 
and  the  princess  she  made  use  of  one 
of  her  own  relatives  (Schwarz),  that 
she  might  be  head  of  a  dynasty  of 
ministers.  But  the  prince's  love  was 
not  as  constant  as  his  father's ;  he  soon 
tired  of  this  painted  beauty,  and  sought 
other  objects,  even  married  women, 
with  whom  he  did  not  stand  badly. 
The  princess  was  irritated  at  it  more 
and  more  and  complained  in  vain  to 
her  father.      She  also  had  a  falling  out 


George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden      239 


with  the  Electress  of  Brandenburg 
[Sophie  Charlotte,  her  sister-in-law], 
because  one  day  the  princess  said  to  the 
Electress  :  Madame,  you  are  unusually 
beautiful  to-day ;  the  Electress  replied 
that  she  had  her  ordinary  color  and 
that  she  did  not  paint  like  many  other 
people  ;  whereupon  the  princess,  who 
was  piqued,  having  provoked  her  into 
washing,  the  Electress,  greatly  annoyed 
took  occasion  to  harm  her  enemy  by 
telling  the  prince  her  brother  a  thou- 
sand tales  that  she  had  heard  ;  this,  al- 
though he  knew  only  too  much  already, 
helped  to  goad  him  on  still  more. 
(  This  story  is  a  pure  invention.  It 
is  true  the  Electress  and  the  princess 
had  not  seen  each  other  for  two  years 
or  more,  but  that  was  for  another 
reason.  When  the  opera  house  seemed 
to  be  on  fire,  Count  Konigsmark 
cried  eagerly,  save  the  electoral  prin- 
cess ;  and  as,  in  the  confusion,  the 
gentleman  in  waiting  could  not  at 
frst  be  found,  the  count,  mistaking 
the  electress  for  the  princess  in  the 
darkness  gave  her  his  hand  to  take 
her  out  of  the  crush.  But  having 
perceived  his  error  he  quitted  her 
brusquely  to  run  to  the  princess,  and 
the  electress,  since  the  others  had 
seen  that  the  count  was  taking  care 
of  her,  was  left  alone  until  Prince 
Maximilian,  perceiving  it,  extricated 
her  from  the  crowd.  The  electress 
having  rallied  her  a  little  on  it,  the 
princess  was  mortally  offended.) 
Meanwhile  the  count,  seeing  that  they 
were  being  watched  more  than  usual, 
resolved  to  leave  and  to  take  service 
with  the  elector  of  Saxony.  But  at 
Dresden  he  was  foolish  enough  to 
speak  of  things  about  which  he  might 
better  have  kept  quiet.  One  of  the 
elector's  councillors,  fearing  lest  this 
count  should  establish  himself  at  Dres- 
den, betrayed  him  and  everything  was 
made  known  at  Hanover.     Whereupon 


it  was  resolved  to  get  rid  of  the  count, 
who  never  meant  to  return  there  but 
only  to  leave  with  a  good  grace. 
Meanwhile  the  measures  were  taken  ; 
Countess  Platen  undertook  to  carry 
them  out  ( falsehood)  ;  Italians  were 
not  lacking  at  Hanover.  (  The  elector 
of  Brunswick  had  enough  faithful 
servitors  in  his  own  land,  not  to  need 
Italians),  and  the  count  disappeared 
the  day  before  the  one  fixed  for  his  de- 
parture. If  one  undertook  to  report 
all  the  rumors  on  this  subject  one  could 
fill  a  volume.  The  most  frequent  one 
is  that  he  was  despatched  very  quickly. 
His  servants  suspected  nothing  at  first 
and  his  secretary  was  imprudent  enough 
not  to  put  away  his  papers ;  he  even 
went  at  last  to  enquire  what  he  should 
do  about  them.  (Some  have  accused 
him  of  dealings  with  the  count's 
enemies,  but  that  is  not  apparent.) 
Under  pretext  that  they  were  state 
papers  in  which  they  were  interested, 
they  went  there  and  found  only  too 
much.  There  was  a  packet  of  all  the 
letters  the  countess  (sic)  had  written 
him  for  a  long  time  back.  The  prin- 
cess was  taken  to  Ahlden  and  then  to 
Lauenau.  Meanwhile  in  order  to 
appease  the  duke  of  Celle  and  make 
him  approve  the  steps  taken,  they 
showed  him  the  letters,  some  of  which 
spoke  ill  enough  of  himself.  There 
was  one  where  the  princess,  displeased 
at  having  complained  in  vain  to  her 
father  of  the  love  affairs  of  her  husband 
says:  this  old  dotard,  because  he  has 
been  a  rake  all  his  life,  thinks  that  no 
one  could  live  without  being  one. 
(  The  terms  used  were  a  little  differ- 
ent. It  seems  she  laughed  at  the 
goodness^  and  credulity  of  the  duke 
her  father.  He  is  in  his  dotage^  she 
said,  which  is  a  sign  that  he  will  still ' 
live  a  long  time.)  Finally  the  duke 
of  Celle  lent  his  hand  to  the  divorce. 
They  had  long  cherished  this  plan,  but 


240      George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden 


out  of  consideration    for   the    duke    of 
Celle    had    been    obliged     to    keep    it 
secret ;    now  they   considered  the  con- 
juncture   favorable     for      bringing     it 
forward.     They  formed  a  council  com- 
posed of  clergy  and  seculars  from  the 
courts  of  Hanover  and    Celle.     There 
the  matter  was  gone  into.     The  coun- 
cil tried  at    first  to  patch  up   matters ; 
the  prince,  knowing  that   the    princess 
would  not  return  to  him,  offered  to  re- 
ceive   her    back.      {Madame     [Eliza- 
beth Charlotte']  remarks  on  this  that 
there  are  no  signs  that  the  electoral 
prince  would  have  been  willing  to  re- 
ceive  her  back.      She    says  the  prin- 
cess was  crazy  enough  to  tie  up  if  she 
refused  to  return  and  inade  such  pro- 
positions, which  are  indeed  fictitious  ; 
all  the  more  since  she  ought  to  think 
of  her  much    inferior    birth    and   to 
consider  it  a  great  honor  even   to  be 
endured  after  those  other  galanteries 
that    made    her    conduct  suspected  — 
as  when  for?nerly  at    Celle  she  almost 
forced  young  Haxthausen   to  receive 
her  letters,  which  proved  the  ruin  of 
this  young   man  at  that  court,  not  to 
speak  of  her  passion  for  the  Rhein- 
graf  nor    the    liberties    she    took    at 
Venice  of  which  certain  Frenchmen, 
like  the  marquis  de  la  Seve,    I  think, 
Blanchefort  and  others  told  stories  at 
the  court   of  France.)     The  pi-incess 
would    not    listen    to    it    [the    idea    of 
returning  to  her  husband]  except  on  con- 
dition that  the  count  be  liberated,  thus  to 
justify  her  innocence,  that  the  countess 
Platen  should  be  sent  away,  and  that  her 
husband  should  treat  her  better.     She 
was    refused    these     conditions.     And 
thereupon      the     council      pronounced 
sentence    of    divorce    on    the    basis    of 
desertion,    with    the    clause    that    the 
prince  might  marry  again ;  but  as  the 
laws  forbid  it  to  the  guilty  party  they 
put    it  into  these    same    terms.     They 
simply  let  it  go  by  default.     The   prin- 


cess's advocate  acted  throughout  the 
whole  trial  like  a  simpleton  or  a  rogue. 
He  had  no  plea  to  urge  against  the 
sentence  except  that  of  supplication 
with  which  he  began.  (  What  other 
means  could  he  use,  since  in  this 
matter  appeals  to  tribunals  of  the 
empire  are  not  in  order?)  The 
princess  was  taken  back  to  Ahlden 
where  she  will  pass  her  time  none 
too  pleasantly. 


2.  Protocol  of  Report  of  Celle  Min- 
isters. (Historische  Zeitschrift,  Vol. 
48,  P-  43-) 

Aug.  5,  1694. 

Report  of  what  passed  at  Ahlden. 
Object  of  the  journey  had  been  to  lay 
before  the  princess  the  true  state  of 
affairs — that  everything  had  been  com- 
pletely laid  bare  and  that  there  was  no 
need  of  denial  or  hesitation  ;  to  tell  her 
just  what  was  to  be  made  public  on  our 
parts,  and  just  how  she  would  have  to 
conduct  herself  when  the  question  of 
divorce  came  up.  She  testified  to  the 
completest  repentance  in  the  world ; 
condemned  herself,  indeed,  recognizing 
that  she  had  merited  all  that  had  hap- 
pened to  her  and  more  too  ;  asked  for 
pardon,  placing  great  confidence  in  the 
generosity  of  the  Elector ;  seemed  to 
have  a  dread  of  the  electoral  prince. 
She  wished  to  deny  having  come  to 
actual  crime ;  recognized  that  the  ap- 
pearances were  such  that  any  one  must 
condemn  her,  and  that  therefore  in  this 
regard  her  innocence  could  serve  only 
for  her  own  internal  satisfaction.  .  .  . 
She  would  consent  to  the  separation,, 
saw  that  it  could  not  well  be  otherwise  ; 
was  of  opinion  that  the  scanty  friend- 
ship, or  rather  aversion  the  prince 
had  felt  for  her  for  years  had  brought 
her  to  this  unhappy  condition  ;  had  not 
thought  she  could  ever  right  herself 
again  in  his  eyes ;  adding  that  before 
his    journey    to    Berlin    he    had    said : 


George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden      241 


"This  constraint  is  too  much;  on  my 
return  I  shall  write  to  your  father  and 
demand  a  separation."  With  such  pre- 
vious intentions  it  was  easy  to  imagine, 
now  that  this  misfortune  had  come,  what 
he  would  do.  Let  them  tell  her  how 
to  act  and  she  would  obey.  She  con- 
sidered it  a  great  blessing  that  God 
through  this  misfortune  would  with- 
draw her  from  a  world  to  which  she 
had  entirely  given  herself  up,  and 
would  give  her  an  opportunity  to  think 
on  God  and  her  salvation ;  that  she 
would  hope  to  prove  an  example  of 
piety,  even  as  she  had  hitherto  of 
scandal. 

[She  was  kept  in  confinement  more 
than  thirty  years  and  never  allowed  to 
see  either  of  her  children,  George  II, 
or  Sophia  Dorothea,  wife  of  Frederick 
William  I.— Ed.] 


3.  General  Stanhope  to  the  Emperor 
of  the  Romans,  Charles  VI.  (Leibnitz, 
Werke,Vol.  IX.  p.  504.)  Translation. 
London,  July  3oth-August  10,  1714. 

[Less  than  two  months  after  the 
death  of  the  Electress  Sophia. — Ed.] 

Sire :  I  think  I  can  with  certainty  at 
this  present  moment  send  word  to  your 
Imperial  and  Christian  Majesty  that  the 
Queen  is  in  the  last  agonies.  After 
having  felt  unwell  for  two  days  she  was 
seized  with  an  attack  of  apoplexy, 
which  lasted  two  hours,  during  which 
she  was  bereft  of  all  sensation.  She 
recovered  a  little  about  eleven  o'clock 
and  the  council  which  had  assembled 
profited  by  this  interval  of  health  to 
gain  the  Queen's  consent  to  nominate 
the  Duke  of  Shrewsbury  as  Grand 
Treasurer,  in  place  of  the  five  commis- 
sioners who  had  been  spoken  of  and 
who  were  to  have  been  subordinated  to 
Lord  Bolingbroke  as  prime  minister. 
The  council  continues  in  session  and 
gives  all  the  orders  necessary  to  main- 
tain the  public  tranquility  and   enable 


Monseigneur  the  Elector  (George  I.) 
to  take  sure  possession.  At  three 
o'clock  this  afternoon  the  four  physi- 
cians declared  to  the  council  that 
the  remedies  they  had  essayed,  two 
very  violent  emetics,  had  had  no 
effect  and  according  to  the  pre- 
cepts of  their  art  she  could  not  live 
twelve  hours.  This  sudden  and  unex- 
pected accident  is  like  a  thunderbolt  f  or 
the  Jacobite  party  which  has  taken  no 
measures  in  advance  for  the  success  of 
their  project ;  and  I  can  assure  your 
Imperial  and  Christian  Majesty,  that  if 
the  physicians  have  guessed  rightly,. 
Monseigneur  the  Elector  of  Hanover 
will  be  proclaimed  King  and  will  take 
possession  of  the  kingdom  as  peace- 
fully as  any  of  his  predecessors  have 
done.  It  is  true  that  if  the  illness 
should  drag  along,  even  if  only  for  a 
few  weeks,  we  might  be  seriously  em- 
barrassed ;  but  all  who  have  seen  the 
Queen  and  spoken  to  the  physicians 
are  perfectly  in  accord  that  to-morrow 
will  see  the  end  of  matters.  I  con- 
sidered, Sire,  that  it  was  my  duty  to 
communicate  to  your  Imperial  and 
Christian  Majesty  all  that  I  could  learn 
in  so  delicate  a  conjuncture.  I  hope 
that  I  am  saying  nothing  new  when  I 
assure  you  that  all  honorable  people 
here  are  just  as  outraged  at  the  perfidy 
of  the  last  ministry  towards  your 
Majesty  as  any  Austrian  or  Spaniard 
could  be  and  that  they  will  contribute 
their  utmost,  when  an  occasion  shall 
present  itsself  to  atone  for  this  national 
infamy  (the  peace  of  Utrecht).  And 
I  flatter  myself,  Sire,  that  I  have  not 
been  mistaken  so  often  as  I  have  said 
to  our  friends  of  the  good  party  that 
your  Imperial  and  Christian  Majesty 
would  always  consider  it  your  interest 
to  keep  England  free,  to  uphold  the 
rights  there  of  the  House  of  Brunswick, 
and  to  protect  us  in  case  of  need  against 
the  common    enemy.     God  grant  that 


242      George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden 


this  good  understanding,  which  had 
engendered  such  glorious  successes, 
may  be  continually  renewed.  Mean- 
while I  humbly  beg  your  Majesty  to 
believe,  that  I  am  and  ever  will  be, 
Sire,  your  Imperial  and  Christian 
Majesty's  very  humble,  very  obedient 
and  very  devoted  servant. 


4.  Letter  of  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montague  to  her  Husband.  (Works, 
Vol.  I.  p.  244.) 

[York.]      1 7 14. 

I  went  with  my  cousin  to-day  to  see 
the  king  proclaimed,  which  was  done ; 
the  archbishop  walking  next  the  lord 
mayor,  and  all  the  country  gentry 
following,  with  greater  crowds  of 
people  than  I  believed  to  be  in  York, 
vast  acclamations  and  the  appearance 
of  a  general  satisfaction ;  the  Pre- 
tender afterwards  dragged  about  the 
streets  and  burned ;  ringing  of  bells, 
bonfires  and  illuminations,  the  mob 
crying  liberty  and  property,  and  long 
live  King  George !  This  morning  all 
the  principal  men  of  any  figure  took 
post  for  London,  and  we  are  alarmed 
with  the  fear  of  attempts  from  Scot- 
land, though  all  the  Protestants  here 
seem  unanimous  for  the  Hanover  suc- 
cession. 


5.  Lord  Chesterfield's  character  of 
George  I.  (Works,  London,  1845,  Vol. 
II.  p.  432.) 

George  the  First  was  an  honest,  dull, 
German  gentleman,  as  unfit  as  unwill- 
ing to  act  the  part  of  a  King,  which  is 
to  shine  and  to  oppress.  Lazy  and 
inactive  even  in  his  pleasures,  which 
were  therefore  lowly  sensual.  He  was 
coolly  intrepid,  and  indolently  benevo- 
lent. He  was  diffident  of  his  own 
parts,  which  made  him  speak  little  in 
public,  and  prefer  in  his  social,  which 
were  his  favourite,  hours  the  company 
of  wags  and  buffoons.  Even  .  .  .  the 
Duchess    of    Kendal,    with    whom    he 


passed  most  of  his  time,  and  who  had 
all  influence  over  him,  was  very  little 
above  an  idiot. 

Importunity  alone  could  make  him 
act,  and  then  only  to  get  rid  of  it.  His 
views  and  affections  were  singly  con- 
fined to  the  narrow  compass  of  his 
Electorate ;  England  was  too  big  for 
him.  If  he  had  nothing  great  as  a 
King,  he  had  nothing  bad  as  a  man  ; 
and  if  he  does  not  adorn,  at  least  he 
will  not  stain,  the  annals  of  this  coun- 
try. In  private  life  he  would  have 
been  loved  and  esteemed  as  a  good 
citizen,  a  good  friend,  and  a  good 
neighbour.  Happy  were  it  for  Europe, 
happy  for  the  world,  if  there  were  not 
greater  kings  in  it ! 


6.  Letters  of  Count  Broglio  to  the 
King  of  France.  (In  Belsham,  History 
of  Great  Brittain,  London,  1805.  Vol. 
III.  Appendix,  p.  539.) 

July  6,  1724. 

As  the  duchess  of  Kendal  seemed  to 
express  a  desire  to  see  me  often,  I 
have  been  very  attentive  to  her,  being 
convinced  that  it  is  highly  essential  to 
the  advancement  of  your  majesty's 
service  to  be  on  good  terms  with  her ; 
for  she  is  closely  united  to  the  three 
ministers  who  now  govern,  and  these 
ministers  are  in  strict  union  together, 
and  are,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  well  in- 
clined. They  visit  me  very  frequently 
both  together  and  singly,  and  I  behave 
to  them  in  the  same  manner.  .  .  . 
Lord  Townshend  and  Mr.  Walpole  have 
been  lately  indisposed,  but  they  are 
now  quite  recovered.  It  is  much  to  be 
wished  that  they  should  remain  in 
power.  .  .  .  They  possess  an  un- 
bounded influence  over  the  King  and 
the  duchess  of  Kendal ;  they  enjoy  the 
whole  power  of  government,  and  the 
entire  confidence  of  the  King. 

The  prince  of  Wales  endeavours  to 
obtain  information  of  what  passes  from 


•*.'*  tnJUjj*, 


George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden       243 


persons  who  are  attached  to  him,  but 
he  learns  nothing  either  from  the  king, 
the  duchess,  or  the  ministers.  The 
king  goes  every  afternoon  at  five  o'clock 
to  the  duchess,  the  ministers  occa- 
sionally attend,  and  it  is  there  that 
affairs  which  require  secresy  are 
treated.   .   .   . 

July  10. 

The  more  I  consider  state  affairs,  the 
more  I  am  convinced  that  the  govern- 
ment is  entirely  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Walpole,  lord  Townshend,  and  the 
duke  of  Newcastle,  who  are  on  the  best 
terms  with  the  duchess  of  Kendal. 
The  king  visits  her  every  afternoon 
from  five  to  eight ;  and  it  is  there  that 
she  endeavours  to  penetrate  the  senti- 
ments of  his  Britannic  majesty.  .  .  . 
I  am  convinced  that  she  may  be  ad- 
vantageously employed  in  promoting 
your  majesty's  service,  and  that  it  will 
be  necessary  to  employ  her :  though  I 
would  not  trust  her  farther  than  is 
absolutely  necessary.   .   .   . 

It  is  much  to  be  wished,  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  union  between  your 
majesty  and  the  king  of  England,  that 
no  misfortune  may  happen  to  Mr. 
Walpole,  he  being  absolutely  the  helm 
of  government.  The  king  cannot  do 
without  him,  on  account  of  his  great 
influence  in  the  house  of  commons, 
where  he  depends  entirely  upon  him  in 
every  respect.  He  is  a  man  of  great 
abilities,  and  very  enterprising.  The 
house  places  a  most  unreserved  con- 
fidence in  him,  and  he  has  the  address 
to  persuade  them  that  the  national 
honour  is  dearer  to  him  than  all  the 
wealth  in  the  world.  He  is  very  ably 
seconded  by  Townshend,  who  is  a  man 
of  great  capacity,  and  with  whom  he  is 
in  perfect  harmony.  The  duke  of 
Newcastle,  who  is  indebted  to  him  for 
his  situation,  submits  to  his  judgment 
in  everything ;  so  that  the  king  experi- 
ences  no    contradiction  to   his  wishes, 


but  leaving  the  internal  government 
entirely  to  Walpole,  is  more  engaged 
with  the  German  ministers,  in  regula- 
ting the  affairs  of  Hanover,  than  occu- 
pied with  those  of  England.  It  is  to 
be  observed,  that  Mr.  Walpole  adjusted 
the  quarrel  between  the  king  and  the 
prince  of  Wales.  .  .  .  For  some  years 
past  the  king  has  not  spoke  a  word  to 
the  prince,  nor  the  prince  to  hini. 
The  princess  of  Wales  sometimes  in 
public  attacks  the  king  in  conversation  ; 
he  answers  her;  but  some  who  are 
well  apprized  that  his  majesty  likes  her 
no  better  than  the  prince,  have  assured 
me,  that  he  only  speaks  to  her  on  these 
occasions  for  the  sake  of  decorum.  .  .  . 
The  king  has  no  predilection  for  the 
English  nation,  and  never  receives  in 
private  any  English  of  either  sex. 
None  even  of  his  principal  officers  are 
admitted  to  his  chamber  in  a  morning 
to  dress  him,  nor  in  the  evening  to 
undress  him.  These  offices  are  per- 
formed by  the  Turks  who  are  his  valet- 
de-chambres,  and  who  give  him  every 
thing  he  wants  in  private.  He  rather 
considers  England  as  a  temporary 
possession,  to  be  made  the  most  of 
while  it  lasts,  than  as  a  perpetual 
inheritance  to  himself  and  family.  He 
will  have  no  disputes  with  the  parlia- 
ment, but  commits  the  entire  transac- 
tion of  that  business  to  Walpole.  .  .  . 
[Green  says:  "under  the  two  sov- 
ereigns who  followed  Anne  the  power 
of  the  Crown  lay  absolutely  dormant. 
They  were  strangers,  to  whom  loyalty 
in  its  personal  sense  was  impossible ; 
and  their  character  as  nearly  approached 
insignificance  as  it  is  possible  for  human 
character  to  approach  it." — Ed.] 


7.  Appendix    to    Horace    Walpole, 
Memoirs  of  George  II.,  Vol.  III. 

I  learned  from    Henrietta,  Countess 
of  Suffolk  .   .   .  the  fact  mentioned  in 


244      George  I.  and  the  Princess  of  Ahlden 


text,  of  George  the  First  burning  his 
wife's  testament.  That  Princess,  the 
Electress  of  Hanover,  liked  the  famous 
Count  Konigsmark,  while  her  husband 
was  at  the  army.  The  old  Elector, 
father  of  George  the  First,  ordered  him 
away.  The  Electress,  then  Hereditary 
Princess,  was  persuaded  to  let  him  kiss 
her  hand  before  his  departure.  She 
saw  him  in  bed — he  retired,  and  was 
never  heard  of  more.  When  George 
the  Second  went  first  to  Hanover  after 
his  father's  death,  and  made  some 
alterations  in  the  palace,  the  body  of 
Konigsmark  was  found  under  the  floor 
of  the  chamber  next  to  the  Electress' s 
chamber.  He  had  been  strangled  im- 
mediately on  leaving  her,  by  the  old 
Elector's  order,  and  buried  under  the 
floor.  This  fact  Queen  Caroline  re- 
lated to  my  father,  Sir  Robert  Wal- 
pole.  George  the  Second  told  it  to  his 
wife.  .  .  .  The  Electress  was  separated 
from  George  I.  on  that  amour,  and  was 
called  Duchess  of  Halle  (?)  ;    and  he 


married  the  Duchess    of  Kendal    with 
his  left  hand.   ... 

George  II.  who  hated  his  father  and 
was  very  fond  of  his  mother,  meant, 
if  she  had  survived  her  husband,  to 
bring  her  over,  and  declare  her  Queen 
Dowager.  Lady  Suffolk  told  me,  that 
the  morning  after  the  news  of  the 
death  of  George  I.  arrived,  when  she 
went,  as  Woman  of  the  Bedchamber, 
to  the  new  Queen,  she  found  a  whole 
and  half-length  portraits  of  the  Elec- 
tress hung  up  in  the  apartment ;  George 
II.  had  had  them  locked  up,  but  had 
not  dared  to  produce  them.  Princess 
Amelie  has  the  half-length  at  her  house 
in  Cavendish-square.  George  I.  told 
the  Duchess  of  Kendal,  that  if  he  could, 
he  would  appear  to  her  after  his  death. 
Soon  after  that  event,  a  large  bird,  I 
forget  of  what  sort,  flew  into  her 
window.  She  believed  it  was  the 
King's  soul,  and  took  the  utmost  care 
of  it.  George  II.  was  not  less  credu- 
lous ;   he  believed  in  vampires. 


GROUP  XXVI. 


KING    GEORGE    II.    AN 

i.  Extracts  from  Loi'd  Hervey's 
Memoirs.      (London  :  Murray,  1848.) 

In  October  (1727)  the  ceremony  of 
the  Coronation  was  performed  with  all 
the  pomp  and  magnificence  that  could 
be  contrived  ;  the  present  King  differ- 
ing so  much  from  the  last,  that  all  the 
pageantry  and  splendour,  badges  and 
trappings  of  royalty,  were  as  pleasing 
to  the  son  as  they  were  irksome  to  the 
father.  The  dress  of  the  Queen  on 
this  occasion  was  as  fine  as  the  accumu- 
lated riches  of  the  City  and  suburbs 
could  make  it ;  for  besides  her  own  jew- 
els (which  were  a  great  number  and 
very  valuable)  she  had  on  her  nead  and 
on  her  shoulders  all  the  pearls  she  could 
borrow  of  the  ladies  of  quality  at  one 


D    QJJEEN    CAROLINE. 

end  of  the  town,  and  on  her  petticoat 
all  the  diamonds  she  could  hire  of  the 
Jews  and  jewelers  at  the  other  ;  so  that 
the  appearance  and  the  truth  of  her 
finery  was  a  mixture  of  magnificence 
and  meanness  not  unlike  the  eclat  of 
royalty  in  many  other  particulars  when 
it  comes  to  be  nicely  examined  and 
traced  to  what  money  hires  or  flattery 
lends.   .   .   . 

Her  (the  Queen's)  predominant  pas- 
sion was  pride,  and  the  darling  pleas- 
ure of  her  soul  was  power;  but  she 
was  forced  to  gratify  the  one  and  gain 
the  other,  as  some  people  do  health, 
by  a  strict  and  painful  regime,  which 
few  besides  herself  could  have  had 
patience   to    support,  or    resolution   to 


(J    E     O    R    G     E     //.' 


King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline    245 


adhere  to.  She  was  at  least  seven  or 
eight  hours  tete-a-tete  with  the  King 
every  day,  during  which  time  she  was 
generally  saying  what  she  did  not  think, 
assenting  to  what  she  did  not  believe, 
and  praising  what  she  did  not  approve  ; 
for  they  were  seldom  of  the  same  opin- 
ion, and  he  too  fond  of  his  own  for  her 
ever  at  first  to  dare  to  controvert  it. 
.  .  .  She  used  to  give  him  her  opinion 
as  jugglers  do  a  card,  by  changing  it 
imperceptibly,  and  making  him  believe 
he  held  the  same  with  that  he  first 
pitched  upon.  But  that  which  made 
these  tete-a-tetes  seem  heaviest  was 
that  he  neither  liked  reading  nor  being 
read  to  (unless  it  was  to  sleep)  :  she 
was  forced,  like  a  spider,  to  spin  out 
of  her  own  bowels  all  the  conversation 
with  which  the  fly  was  taken.  How- 
ever, to  all  this  she  submitted  for  the 
sake  of  power,  and  for  the  reputation 
of  having  it.  .  .  .  Her  every  thought, 
word  and  act  therefore  tended  and  was 
calculated  to  preserve  her  influence 
there ;  to  him  she  sacrificed  her  time, 
for  him  she  mortified  her  inclination ; 
she  looked,  spake  and  breathed  but 
for  him,  like  a  weathercock  to  every 
capricious  blast  of  his  uncertain  tem- 
per, and  governed  him  (if  such  influ- 
ence so  gained  can  bear  the  name 
of  government)  by  being  as  great  a 
slave  to  him  thus  ruled,  as  any  other 
wife  could  be  to  a  man  who  ruled  her. 
For  all  the  tedious  hours  she  spent  then 
in  watching  him  whilst  he  slept,  or  the 
heavier  task  of  entertaining  him  whilst 
he  was  awake,  her  single  consolation 
was  in  reflecting  she  had  power,  and 
that  people  in  coffee-houses  and  ruelles 
were  saying  she  governed  this  country, 
without  knowing  how  dear  the  govern- 
ment of  it  cost  her.   .   .    . 

The  day  [29th  October,  1734]  be- 
fore the  birthday  the  Court  removed 
from  Kensington  to  London  ;  and  the 
Queen,  who  had  long  been  out  of  order 


with  a  cough  and  a  little  lurking  fever, 
notwithstanding  she  had  been  twice 
blooded,  grew  every  hour  worse  and 
worse  :  however,  the  King  lugged  her 
the  night  she  came  from  Kensington, 
the  first  of  Farinelli's  performances,  to 
the  opera,  and  made  her  the  next  day 
go  through  all  the  tiresome  ceremonies 
of  drawing-rooms  and  balls,  the  fa- 
tigues of  heats  and  crowds,  and  every 
other  disagreeable  appurtenance  to  the 
celebration  of  a  birthday.  There  was 
a  strange  affectation  of  an  incapacity 
of  being  sick  that  ran  through  the 
whole  Royal  Family,  which  they  car- 
ried so  far  that  no  one  of  them  was 
more  willing  to  own  any  other  of  the 
family  ill  than  to  acknowledge  them- 
selves to  be  so.   .   .   . 

*734- 

Sir  Robert  Walpole  [the  prime- 
minister]  used  always  to  go  into  Nor- 
folk twice  in  a  year,  for  ten  days  in 
summer  and  twenty  in  November,  and 
generally  set  out  for  his  second  expedi- 
tion the  day  after  the  King's  birthday  : 
he  was  to  do  so  now,  and  therefore  to 
take  his  leave  this  evening  of  the 
Queen.  .  .  .  "You  know,  Madam," 
said  he,  "  I  can  do  nothing  without  you  ; 
whatever  my  industry  and  watchfulness 
for  your  interest  and  welfare  suggest, 
it  is  you  must  execute :  you,  Madam, 
are  the  sole  mover  of  this  Court ; 
whenever  your  hand  stops,  everything 
must  stand  still,  and,  whenever  that 
spring  is  changed,  the  whole  system 
and  every  inferior  wheel  must  be 
changed  too.  If  I  can  boast  of  any 
success  in  carrying  on  the  King's 
affairs,  it  is  a  success,  I  am  very  free  to 
own,  I  never  could  have  had  but  by  the 
mediation  of  your  Majesty  ...  so 
much  so  that  I  not  only  never  did  do 
anything  without  you,  but  I  know  I 
never  could ;  and  if  this  country  have 
the  misfortune  to  lose  your  Majesty,  I 
should  find  it  as  impossible,  divested  of 


246     King  George  II.   and  Queen  Caroline 


your  assistance,  to  persuade  the  King 
into  any  measure  he  did  not  like,  as, 
whilst  we  have  the  happiness  of  pos- 
sessing your  Majesty,  any  minister 
would  find  it  to  persuade  him  into  a 
step  which  you  did  not  approve."  .  .  . 
Lord  Hervey  told  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
that  he  feared  the  King  had  overheard 
everything  that  had  passed  this  evening 
between  him  and  the  Queen.  Sir 
Robert  started  at  this,  and  said,  "  If 
he  has,  it  is  impossible  he  can  ever 
forgive  me.  ...  For  God's  sake 
find  out  whether  it  was  so  or  not,  and 
let  me  know  before  I  set  out  to-morrow 
7norning for  Norfolk.'"  .  .  . 
:  Lord  Hervey  was  not  a  little  pleased 
to  find  his  conjectures  had  been  false, 
and  quickly  made  Sir  Robert  Walpole 
easy  by  a  short  note  to  tell  him  what 
the  case  had  been.   .   .   . 

!735- 
One  trouble  arose  on  the  King's 
going  to  Hanover  which  her  Majesty 
did  not  at  all  foresee,  which  was  his 
becoming,  soon  after  his  arrival,  so 
much  attached  to  one  Madame  Wal- 
moden,  a  young  married  woman  of  the 
first  fashion  at  Hanover,  that  nobody  in 
England  talked  of  anything  but  the 
declining  power  of  the  Queen,  and  the 
growing  interest  of  this  new  favour- 
ite.  ... 

It  is  certain,  too,  that,  from  the  very 
beginning  of  this  new  engagement,  the 
King  acquainted  the  Queen  by  letter  of 
eveiy  step  he  took  in  it — of  the  growth 
of  his  passion,  the  progress  of  his 
applications,  and  their  success — of 
every  word  as  well  as  of  every  action 
that  passed — so  minute  a  description  of 
her  person,  that  had  the  Queen  been  a 
painter  she  might  have  drawn  her 
rival's  picture  at  six  hundred  miles 
distance.   .   .   . 

By  unreasonably  hurrying  himself  to 
arrive  in  England,  though  he  was  as 
unreasonably  sorry  to  return  thither  at 


all,  he  (the  King)  had  made  himself 
extremely  ill ;  for  whilst  he  travelled  in 
this  violent  manner,  day  and  night,  and 
almost  without  any  rest,  only  for  the 
pleasure  of  bragging  how  quick  he 
moved,  he  had  so  heated  his  blood  that 
he  was  feverish  for  several  days  after 
he  returned.   .   .   . 

This  disorder  was  kept  a  great  secret 
to  all  the  Court,  but  the  consequences 
of  it  were  no  secret.  Everybody  shared 
the  warm  and  frequent  sallies  of  his 
abominable  temper,  and  everybody  im- 
puted them  to  what  was  the  joint 
though  not  the  sole  cause  of  these 
eruptions,  which  was  the  affliction  he 
felt  for  the  change  of  a  German  life  to 
an  English  one.   .    .   . 

After  this  last  journey,  Hanover  had 
so  completed  the  conquest  of  his  affec- 
tions that  there  was  nothing  English 
ever  commended  in  his  presence  that  he 
did  not  always  show,  or  pretend  to 
show  was  surpassed  by  something  of 
the  same  kind  in  Germany.  No  Eng- 
lish or  even  French  cook  could  dress  a 
dinner ;  no  English  confectioner  set  out 
a  desert ;  no  English  player  could  act ; 
no  English  coachman  could  drive,  or 
English  jockey  ride ;  nor  were  any 
English  horses  fit  to  be  drove  or  fit  to 
be  ridden ;  no  Englishman  knew  how 
to  come  into  a  room,  nor  any  English- 
woman how  to  dress  herself  .  .  . 
whereas  at  Hanover  all  these  things 
were  in  the  utmost  perfection.   ... 

In  truth  he  hated  the  English,  looked 
upon  them  all  as  king-killers  and 
republicans,  grudged  them  their  riches 
as  well  as  their  liberty,  thought  them 
all  overpaid,  and  said  to  Lady  Sundon 
one  day  as  she  was  waiting  at  dinner, 
just  after  he  had  returned  from  Ger- 
many, that  he  was  forced  to  distribute 
his  favours  here  very  differently  from 
the  manner  in  which  he  bestowed  them 
at  Hanover;  that  there  he  rewarded 
people  for  doing  their  duty  and  serving 


qjJEEN  CAROLINE. 


King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline    247 


him  well,  but  that  here  he  was  obliged 
to  enrich  people  for  being  rascals,  and 
buy  them  not  to  cut  his  throat. 

The  Queen  did  not  always  think  in 
a  different  style  of  the  English,  though 
she  kept  her  thoughts  more  to  herself 
than  the  King.  .  .  .  The  love  of  rule, 
the  thirst  of  dominion  and  the  jealousy 
of  prerogative  were  so  strongly  im- 
planted in  her — the  German  and  the 
Queen  so  rooted  in  her  mind — that  the 
King  himself  had  not  more  at  heart  all 
the  trappings  and  pageantry  of  sov- 
ereignty than  she  the  essential  parts  of 
it.   .   .   . 

1736. 

In  the  mean  time  the  people  of  all 
ranks  grew  every  day  more  discon- 
tented at  the  King's  stay  in  Germany. 
The  people  belonging  to  the  Court 
were  uneasy  at  it,  as  it  made  the  Court 
so  much  more  unpopular.  .  .  .  The 
tradesmen  were  all  uneasy,  as  they 
thought  the  King's  absence  prevented 
people  coming  to  town,  and  particu- 
larly for  the  birthday.  .  .  .  The  ordi- 
nary and  the  godly  people  took  the 
turn  of  pitying  the  poor  Queen,  and 
railing  at  his  Majesty  for  using  so  good 
a  wife,  who  had  brought  him  so  many 
fine  children,  so  abominably  ill.  Some 
of  them  (and  those  who,  if  he  had 
heard  all  this,  would  have  fretted  him 
most)  used  to  talk  of  his  age,  and  say, 
for  a  man  at  his  time  of  day  to  be  play- 
ing these  youthful  pranks,  and  fancy- 
ing himself  in  love,  was  quite  ridicu- 
lous, as  well  as  inexcusable.  .  .  .  To 
this  familiar  manner  of  talking  were 
added  several  little  ingenious  manu- 
scripts :  pasquinades  were  stuck  up  in 
several  quarters  of  the  town.  .  .  .  On 
St.  James's  gate  this  advertisement  was 
pasted: — "  Lost  or  strayed  out  of  this 
house,  a  man  who  has  left  a  wife  and 
six  children  on  the  parish ;  whoever 
will  give  any  tidings  of  him  to  the 
churchwardens  of  St.   James's  Parish, 


so  as  he  may  be  got  again,  shall  receive 
four  shillings  and  sixpence  reward.  N. 
B.  This  reward  will  not  be  increased, 
nobody  judging  him  to  deserve  a 
Crown."    .   .   . 

The  Queen,  at  St.  James's  passed 
her  common  evenings  just  as  she  had 
done  at  Kensington :  that  is,  in  her 
private  apartment  at  quadrille  with 
her  lady-in-waiting,  Mrs.  Schutz,  and 
Lady  Charlotte  de  Roussie ;  whilst  the 
Princess  Caroline,  Miss  Dives  (one  of 
her  maids  of  honour)  and  Lord  Her- 
vey  played  pools  at  cribbage ;  and  the 
Duke,  Princess  Emily,  and  the  rest  of 
the  chance-comers  of  the  family  played 
at  basset.  Mondays  and  Fridays,  how- 
ever, there  were  public  drawing-rooms 
in  the  great  apartments,  in  the  same 
manner  as  when  the  King  used  to  be  in 
London.  This  Friday  .  .  .  there  was 
a  public  drawing-room  as  usual,  to 
which  neither  the  Pr.ince  nor  Princess 
came ;  the  Prince  [Frederick,  the  heir 
apparent  had  quarrelled  bitterly  with 
his  parents]  made  no  excuse,  the  Prin- 
cess pleaded  a  cold,  but  the  only  marks 
of  it  that  appeared  was  a  black-hood. 
.  .  .  The  Queen  asked  Lord  Hervey  if 
he  had  heard  any  of  the  particulars  of 
yesterday's  feast  in  Pail-Mall.  .  .  . 
Lord  Hervey  said  the  Prince's  speech 
in  the  morning  was  the  most  ingratia- 
ting piece  of  popularity  that  ever  was 

composed.   .   .   .  ,  says  the  Queen, 

"popularity  always  makes  me  sick; 
but  Fritz's  popularity  makes  me  vomit. 
I  hear  that  yesterday,  on  his  side  of  the 
house,  they  talked  of  the  king's  being 
cast  away  with  the  same  sang-froid  as 
you  would  talk  of  a  coach  being  over- 
turned ;  and  that  my  good  son  strutted 
about  as  if  he  had  been  already  King. 
Did  you  mind  the  air  with  which  he 
came    into    my    drawing-room  in    the 


morning  i 


I  swear  his  behaviour 


shocked    me    so    prodigiously,    that   I 
could  hardly  bring  myself  to  speak  to 


248     King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline 


him."  .  .  .  "You  do  not  imagine,  I 
believe,  now  [said  Lord  Hervey]  that 
the  Prince  has  all  that  horror  of  being 
King,  which  you  then-  supposed." 
"  Oh,"  replied  the  Queen,  "  he  is  such 
an  ass  that  one  cannot  tell  what  he 
thinks :  and  yet  he  is  not  so  great  a 
fool  as  you  take  him  for,  neither."  .  .  . 
The  Princess  Caroline,  who  loved  her 
mother  and  disliked  her  brother  in  equal 
and  extreme  degrees,  was  in  much  the 
same  state  of  mind  as  the  Queen.  .  .  . 
They  neither  of  them  made  much  cere- 
mony of  wishing  a  hundred  times  a 
day  that  the  Prince  might  fall  down 
dead  of  an  apoplexy — the  Queen  curs- 
ing the  hour  of  his  birth,  and  the 
Princess'Caroline  declaring  she  grudged 
him  every  hour  he  continued  to  breathe  ; 
and  reproaching  Lord  Hervey  with  his 
weakness  for  having  ever  loved  him, 
...  as  well  as  being  so  great  a  dupe 
as  to  believe  the  nauseous  beast  (those 
were  her  words)  cared  for  anybody  but 
his  own  nauseous  self.   .   .   . 

Soon  after  .  .  .  some  of  the  Prince's 
letters  were  likewise  printed.  Those 
that  had  the  greatest  air  of  submis- 
sion were  picked  out  on  this  occasion 
in  order  to  move  the  compassion  of 
the  public.  .  .  .  This  and  other  cir- 
cumstances made  the  King  and  Queen 
determine  to  have  all  the  original  letters 
and  messages  printed  that  had  passed 
by  the  first  night.  .  .  .  Lord  Hervey 
the  Queen  desired  might  translate  them. 
.  .  .  The  King  and  Queen  were  full 
as  well  pleased  with  giving  Lord  Her- 
vey this  commission  to  call  their  son  a 
liar  in  print,  as  he  was  to  receive  it, 
and  charged  him  not  to  embellish  the 
fool's  letters  in  the  translation,  or  to 
mend  the  spelling  in  the  original.  Lord 
Hervey  took  occasion  upon  this  subject, 
among  many  others  things,  to  say,  he 
did  not  believe  there  ever  was  a  father 
and  son  so  thoroughly  unlike  in  every 
particular  as  the  King  and  Prince,  and 


enumerated  several  points  in  which 
they  differed,  as  little  to  the  advantage 
of  the  Prince  as  to  the  dispraise  or  dis- 
pleasure of  the  King.  .  .  .  "  My  dear 
Lord,"  replied  the  Queen,  "  I  will  give 
it  you  under  my  hand,  if  you  are  in  any 
fear  of  my  relapsing,  that  my  dear  first- 
born is  the  greatest  ass  and  the  greatest 
liar,  and  the  greatest  canaille,  and  the 
greatest  beast  in  the  whole  world,  and 
that  I  most  heartily  wish  he  was  out  of 
it."   .   .   . 

On  Wednesday,  the  9th  of  Novem- 
ber (1737),  the  Queen  was  taken  ill  in 
the  morning  at  her  new  Library  in  St. 
James's  Park;  she  called  her  com- 
plaint the  cholic,  her  stomach  and 
bowels  giving  her  great  pain.  She 
came  home,  took  Daffy's  Elixir  by  Dr. 
Tesier's,  the  German  and  house-physi- 
cian's advice;  but  was  in  such  great 
pain  .  .  .  that  she  went  to  bed.  How- 
ever, when  the  clock  struck  two,  and 
the  King  proposed  sending  Lord  Gran- 
tham to  dismiss  the  company,  and 
declare  there  would  be  no  drawing- 
room,  she,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  family,  not  caring  to  own,  or  at 
least  to  have  it  generally  known,  how 
ill  she  was,  told  the  King  she  was 
much  better — that  she  would  get  up 
and  see  the  company  as  usual.  As 
soon  as  she  came  into  the  drawing- 
room  she  came  up  to  Lord  Hervey  and 
said,  "Is  it  not  intolerable  at  my  age 
to  be  plagued  with  a  new  distemper? 
Here  is  this  nasty  cholic  that  I  had  at 
Hampton  Court  come  again."  .  .  . 
Lord  Hervey  asked  her  what  she  had 
taken,  and  when  she  told  him,  he 
replied,  "For  God's  sake,  Madam,  go 
to  your  own  room  ;  what  have  you  to 
do  here?"  .  .  .  At  last  the  King  went 
away,  telling  the  Queen  as  he  went  by, 
that  she  had  overlooked  the  Duchess  of 
Norfolk.  The  Queen  made  her  excuse 
for  having  done  so  to  the  Duchess  of 
Norfolk,  the  last  person  she  ever  spoke 


(See  page  353 •) 


King  George  II.   and  Queen  Caroline     249 


to  in  public,  and  then  retired,  going 
immediately  into  bed,  where  she  grew 
worse  every  moment.  .  .  .  Lord  Her- 
vey  speaking  to  the  King,  who  was 
now  returned  from  Princess  Emily's 
apartment,  and  began  to  be  alarmed, 
Dr.  Broxholme  was  immediately  sent 
for  by  Lord  Hervey.  When  he  came, 
Tesier  and  he  agreed  to  give  the  Queen 
immediately  some  snake-root  with  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh's  cordial.  .  .  .  Soon 
after  the  snake-root  and  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh's  cordial  arrived  from  the 
apothecary's;  it  was  taken  and  thrown 
up  about  an  hour  after.  All  these 
strong  things,  twice  Daffy's  Elixir, 
mint-water,  usquebaugh,  snake-root, 
and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  Cordial,  had, 
without  easing  the  Queen's  pain,  so 
increased  her  fever,  that  the  doctors 
ordered  Ranby  to  bleed  her  twelve 
ounces  immediately.   .   .   . 

Her  vomiting  was  suspended  for  a 
few  hours  this  morning.  .  .  .  On  this 
amendment,  as  everybody  called. it,  but 
few  really  thought  it,  the  King  resolved 
to  have  a  levee,  and  that  the  Princess 
Emily  should  see  the  company  at  the 
usual  hour  of  the  Queen's  going  into 
her  drawing-room  ;  and  to  show  what 
odd  and  inconsistent  particulars  we  are 
all  composed  of,  this  being  the  day  the 
Foreign  Ministers  came  to  Court,  the 
King,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  real  and 
great  concern  for  the  Queen,  sent-  to 
his  pages  to  bid  them  be  sure  to  have 
his  last  new  ruffles  sewed  on  upon  the 
shirt  he  was  to  put  on  that  day  at  his 
public  dressing.  Such  sort  of  particu- 
lars will  seem  very  trifling  to  those 
who  do  not  think,  like  me,  that  trifling 
circumstances  often  let  one  more  into 
people's  tempers  and  characters  than 
those  parts  of  their  conduct  that  are  of 
greater  importance,  from  which  one 
frequently  knows  no  more  of  their  natu- 
ral turn  of  mind  than  one  does  of  their 
natural  gait  whilst  they  are  dancing. .  .  . 


This  night  two  more  physicians  were 
called  in,  Sir  Hans  Sloane  and  Dr. 
Hulst,  who  ordered  blisters  and  aperi- 
ents :  these  cama  up,  like  every  other 
thing,  soon  after  she  had  swallowed  it, 
and  the  blisters,  though  a  remedy  to 
which  the  King  and  Queen. had  often 
declared  themselves  very  averse,  were 
put  upon  her  legs.  .  .  .  At  six  o'clock 
on  Friday  morning  the  Queen  was 
again  blooded.   .   .   . 

When  Ranby  returned  he  brought 
one  Shipton  with  him,  a  City  surgeon". 
.  .  .  By  this  time,  too,  Busier  arrived, 
and  these  three  attended  her  constantly. 
After  they  had  examined  the  Queen, 
they  all  told  the  King  she  was  in  the 
utmost  danger.  Busier  proposed  mak- 
ing an  operation  with  the  knife  to  en- 
able them  to  replace  the  protrusion, 
which  Ranby  opposed  as  full  of  imme- 
diate danger  and  thinking  that  the 
tumour  might  be  reduced  by  less  violent 
means.  .  .  .  About  four  o'clock  on 
Sunday  morning  the  13th,  the  Queen 
complaining  that  her  wound  was  ex- 
tremely painful,  and  desiring  to  have  it 
dressed,  Ranby  and  Shipton  were  called 
in  to  her,  and  upon  opening  the  wound 
declared  it  had  already  begun  to  mor- 
tify.  .   .   . 

It  is  not  necessary  to  examine  whether 
the  Queen's  reasoning  was  good  or  bad 
in  wishing  the  King,  in  case  she  died, 
should  marry  again  : — It  is  certain  she 
did  wish  it ;  had  often  said  so  when  he 
was  present,  and  when  he.  was  not 
present,  and  when  she  was  in  health, 
and  gave  it  now  as  her  advice  to  him 
when  she  was  dying — upon  which  his 
sobs  began  to  rise  and  his  tears  to  fall 
with  double  vehemence.  Whilst  in  the 
midst  of  this  passion,  wiping  his  eyes, 
and  sobbing  between  every  word,  with 
much  ado  he  got  out  this  answer  :  Non, 
f  aural  des  maitr esses.  .  .  .  To  which 
the  Queen  made  no  other  reply  than 
'■'•ah!     mon     Die?t !     cela     n*  cmpeche 


250    King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline 


pas."  I  know  this  episode  will  hardly 
be  credited,  but  it  is  literally  true.   .   .   . 

On  Sunday  morning,  about  nine 
o'clock,  the  surgeons,  upon  opening  the 
Queen's  wound,  found  the  mortification 
was  not  spread  ;  and  upon  cutting  off 
what  was,  already  mortified,  declared 
she  might  recover.  This  appeared  so 
inconsistent  with  their  declarations  some 
hours  before,  and  in  my  opinion  showed 
so  much  ignorance,  that  if  a  life  of  this 
consequence,  committed  to  the  care  of 
four  of  the  best  physicians  and  three  of 
the  best  surgeons  in  England,  received 
no  better  assistance  from  their  skill, 
how  natural  it  is  to  deplore  the  situation 
of  those  whose  safety  depends  on  the 
sagacity  of  these  professions,  and  how 
reasonable  to  despise  those  who  put 
their  trust  in  such  aids  !  Not  that  I  am 
so  unjust  to  surgery  as  to  put  .that 
science  upon  the  same  foot  with  physic  ; 
and  for  my  own  part  I  firmly  believe 
there  was  not  the  least  mortification 
begun,  when  they  ignorantly  pro- 
nounced there  was.   .   .   . 

The  King  had  been  particularly 
anxious  this  whole  day  from  what  the 
Queen  had  said  with  regard  to  her 
dying  of  a  Wednesday,  which  could 
not  be  much  wondered  at,  since  a  mind 
much  less  addicted  to  superstitions  than 
his  Majesty's  might  have  been  a  little 
affected.  .  .  .  Could  it  then  be  sur- 
prising that  a  man  who  believed  in 
ghosts  and  witches  should  not  be 
proof?  .   .   . 

During  this  time  the  King  talked 
perpetually  to  Lord  Hervey  ...  of 
the  Queen's  good  qualities.  .  .  .  He 
said  she  was  the  best  wife,  the  best 
mother,  the  best  companion,  the  best 
friend,  and  the  best  woman  that  ever 
was  born  ;  .  .  .  that  he  had  never  seen 
her  out  of  humour  in  his  life,  that  he  had 
passed  more  hours  with  her  than  he 
believed  any  other  two  people  in  the 
world  had  ever   passed   together,   and 


that  he  had  never  been  tired  in  her 
company  one  minute.   .   .   . 

These  were  the  terms  in  which  he 
was  forever  now  talking  of  the  Queen, 
and  in  which  he  likewise  talked  to  her ; 
and  yet  so  unaccountable  were  the  sud- 
den sallies  of  his  temper,  and  so  little 
was  he  able  or  willing  to  command 
them,  that  in  the  midst  of  all  this  flow 
of  tenderness  he  hardly  ever  went  into 
her  room  that  he  did  not,  even  in  this- 
moving  situation,  snub  her  for  some- 
thing or  other  she  said  or  did.  When 
her  constant  uneasiness,  from  the  sick- 
ness in  her  stomach  and  the  soreness  of 
her  wound,  would  make  her  shift  her 
posture  every  minute,  he  would  say  to 
her,  "  How  the  devil  should  you  sleep, 
when  you  will  never  lie  still  a  moment  ?" 
.  .  .  When  the  King  came  into  her 
room  in  the  morning,  as  she  lay  with 
tier  eyes  fixed  at  a  point  in  the  air  .  .  . 
the  King  with  a  loud  and  quick  voice 
said  to  her,  **  Mon  Dieu,  qu'  est-ce-que 
vous  regardez?  Comment  peut-on 
fixer  ses  yeux  comme  $a?  Vos  yeux 
ressemblent  a  ceux  d' un  veau  a  qui 
on  vient  de  couper  la  gorge ! "    .   .   . 

About  ten  o'clock  on  Sunday  night — 
the  King  being  in  bed  and  asleep  on  the 
floor  at  the  feet  of  the  Queen's  bed,  and 
the  Princess  Emily  in  a  couch-bed  in  a 
corner  of  the  room — the  Queen  began 
to  rattle  in  her  throat ;  and  Mrs.  Purcel 
giving  the  alarm  that  she  was  expiring, 
all  in  the  room  started  up.  Princess 
Caroline  was  sent  for,  and  Lord  Her- 
vey, but  before  the  last  arrived  the 
Queen  was  just  dead.  All  she  said 
before  she  died,  was,  "  I  have  now  got 
an  asthma.      Open  the  window."    .   .   . 

The  King  kissed  the  face  and  hands 
of  the  lifeless  body  several  times,  but 
in  a  few  minutes  left  the  Queen's  apart- 
ment. .  .  .  The  grief  he  felt  for  the 
Queen,  as  it  was  universally  known 
and  showed  a  tenderness  of  which  the 
world  thought  him   before  utterly  in- 


T^         Of    THE  r 

UNIVERSITY 


£/=• 


CALIFOW 


its  ^ttui 


•   n 


cc/voi/  ()c  t^ra/ice 


■ 


( See  page  253.) 


King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline     251 


capable,  made  him  for  some  time  more 
popular  and  better  spoken  of  than  he 
had  ever  been  before  this  incident,  or 
than  I  believe  he  ever  will  be  again. 
He  was  thoroughly  unaffected  on  this 
occasion,  and  by  being  so  (as  odd  as  it 
may  seem  to  say  this)  perplexed  those 
who  were  about  him. 


2.  Lord  Chesterfield's  character  of 
Queen  Caroline.  (Works,  Vol.  II. 
P-  437-) 

Queen  Caroline  had  lively,  pretty 
parts,  a  quick  conception,  and  some 
degree  of  female  knowledge ;  and 
would  have  been  an  agreeable  woman 
in  social,  if  she  had  not  aimed  at  being 
a  great  one  in  public  life.   .   .   . 

Cunning  and  perfidy  were  the  means 
she  made  use  of  in  business,  as  all 
women  do,  for  want  of  better.  She 
showed  her  art  most  in  her  management 
of  the  King,  whom  she  governed  abso- 
lutely, by  a  seeming  complaisance  and 
obedience  to  all  his  humours ;  she  even 
favoured  and  promoted  his  gallanteries. 
She  had  a  dangerous  ambition,  for  it 
was  attended  with  courage,  and,  if  she 
had  lived  much  longer,  might  have 
proved  fatal  either  to  herself  or  the  con- 
stitution.  .   .   . 

Upon  the  whole,  the  agreeable 
woman  was  liked  by  most  people ;  but 
the  Queen  was  neither  esteemed,  be- 
loved nor  trusted,  by  anybody  but  the 
King. 

A  Ballad  of  the  Day.  (From 
Morris:     Early    Hanoverians,    p.    82.) 

You  may  strut,  dapper  George,  but  'twill  all 

be  in  vain; 
We  know  'tis  Queen  Caroline,  not  you,  that 

reign— 
You  govern   no   more   than    Don    Philip   of 

Spain. 
Then  if  you  would  have    us    fall    down  and 

adore  you, 
Lock  up   your   fat    spouse,  as    your  dad  did 

before  you. 


3.  Lord  Chesterfield's  Character  of 
George  II.      (Works,  Vol.  II.  p.  434.) 

.  .  .  Everything  in  his  composition 
was  -little ;  and  he  had  all  the  weak- 
nesses of  a  little  mind,  without  any  of 
the  virtues,  or  even  the  vices,  of  a  great 
one.  He  loved  to  act  the  King,  but 
mistook  the  part ;  and  the  Royal  dig- 
nity shrunk  into  the  Electoral  pride. 
He  was  educated  upon  that  scale,  and 
never  enlarged  its  dimensions  with  his 
dominions.  As  Elector  of  Hanover  he 
thought  himself  great ;  as  King  of 
Great  Britain  only  rich.  Avarice,  the 
meanest  of  all  passions,  was  his  ruling 
one ;  and  I  never  knew  him  deviate 
into  any  generous  action.   .    .   . 

In  Council  he  was  excessively  timor- 
ous, and  thought  by  many  to  be  so  in 
person  ;  but  of  this  I  can  say  nothing 
on  my  own  knowledge.  In  his  dress 
and  in  his  conversation  he  affected  the 
hero  so  much,  that  from  thence  only 
many  called  his  courage  in  question.  .  .  . 

Little  things,  as  he  has  often  told  me 
himself,  affected  him  more  than  great 
ones ;  and  this  was  so  true,  that  I  have 
often  seen  him  put  so  much  out  of 
humour  at  his  private  levee,  by  a  mis- 
take or  blunder  of  a  valet  de  chambre^ 
that  the  gaping  crowd  admitted  to  his 
public  levee  have,  from  his  looks  and 
silence,  concluded  that  he  had  just 
received  some  dreadful  news.  Tacitus 
would  always  have  been  deceived  by 
him.   ... 

He  well  knew  that  he  was  governed 
by  the  Queen,  while  she  lived ;  and 
that  she  was  governed  by  Sir  Robert 
Walpole :  but  he  kept  that  secret 
inviolably,  and  flattered  himself  that 
nobody  had  discovered  it.   .   .   . 

He  was  very  well-bred  ;  but  it  was 
in  a  stiff  and  formal  manner,  and  pro- 
duced in  others  that  restraint  which 
they  saw  he  was  under  himself.  .  .  . 
He  died  unlamented,  though  not  un- 
praised  because  he  was  dead. 


252     King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline 


Upon  the  whole,  he  was  rather  a 
weak  than  a  bad  man  or  King.  His 
government  was  mild  as  to  prerogative, 
but  burthensome  as  to  taxes.  ...  I 
have  dwelt  the  longer  upon  this  char- 
acter, because  I  was  so  long  and  so 
well  acquainted  with  it ;  for  above 
thirty  years  I  was  always  near  his 
person,  and  had  constant  opportunities 
of  observing  him,  both  in  his  Regal 
robes  and  in  his  undress.  I  have  ac- 
companied him  in  his  pleasures,  and 
been  employed  in  his  business.  I  have, 
by  turns,  been  as  well  and  as  ill  with  him 
as  any  man  in  England.  Impartial 
and  unprejudiced,  I  have  drawn  this 
character  from  the  life,  and  after  a 
forty  years  sitting. 


4.  Extract  from  Mrs.  Calderwood's 
Account  of  her  Journey  into  England. 
(In  Coltness  Collection,  Maitland  Club, 
1842,  p.  118.) 

I756- 

...  I  went  one  morning  to  the  Park 
in  hopes  to  see  the  Duke  review  a  troop 
of  the  Horse  Guards,  but  he  was  not 
there  ;  but  the  Guards  were  very  pretty. 
Sail  Blackwood  and  Miss  Buller  were 
with  me ;  they  were  afraid  to  push 
near  for  the  croud,  but  I  was  resolved 
to  get  forward,  so  pushed  in.  '  They 
were  very  surly,  and  one  of  them 
asked  me  where  I  would  be,  would  I 
have  my  toes  trode  off  ?  "  Is  your  toes 
trode  off?"  said  I.  "No,"  said  he. 
"  Then  give  me  your  place  and  I'll 
take  care  of  my  toes."  "But  they  are 
going  to  fire,"  said  he.  "  Then  its 
time  for  you  to  march  off,"  said  I,  "  for 
I  can  stand  fire.  I  wish  your  troops 
may  do  as  well."  On  which  he  sneaked 
off  and  gave  me  his  place.   .   .   . 

I  paid  some  visits,  and  went  to  see 
Greenwich  Hospitall,  which  is  a  ridicu- 
lous fine  thing.  The  view  is  very 
pretty,  which  you  see  just  as  well  in  a 
rary-show  glass.  No  wonder  the  Eng- 
lish are  transported  with  a  place  they 


can  see  about  them  in.  The  only  fine 
houses  I  went  to  see  more  were  the 
King's  at  Kensingtoun,  and  the  Jew's 
I  wrote  you  of.  The  palace  looks  bet- 
ter within  than  without,  and  there  is 
some  very  fine  marbles,  pictures  and 
mirrors  in  it.  But  I  could  not  see  the 
private  apartment  of  the  old  goodman, 
which  they  say  is  a  great  curiosity. 
There  are  a  small  bed  with  silk  cur- 
tains, two  sattin  quilts  and  no  blanket, 
a  hair  mattress ;  a  plain  wicker  basket 
stands  on  a  table,  with  a  silk  nightgown 
and  night-cap  in  it ;  a  candle  with  an 
extinguisher ;  some  billets  of  wood  on 
each  side  of  the  fire.  He  goes  to  bed 
alone,  rises,  lights  his  fire  and  mends  it 
himself,  and  nobody  knows  when  he 
rises,  which  is  very  early,  and  is  upp 
severall  hours  before  he  calls  anybody. 
He  dines  in  a  small  room  adjoining,  in 
which  there  is  nothing  but  very  com- 
mon things.  He  sometimes,  they  say, 
sups  with  his  daughters  and  their  com- 
pany, and  is  very  merry  and  sings 
French  songs,  but  at  present  he  is  in 
very  low  spirits. 


5.  Lord  Waldegrave's  character  of 
George  II.  (Memoirs,  London,  1821, 
p.  4.) 

1758. 

The  King  is  in  his  75th  year;  but 
temperance  and  an  excellent  constitu- 
tion have  hitherto  preserved  him  from 
many  of  the  infirmities  of  old  age.   .   .   . 

He  has  as  much  personal  bravery  as 
any  man,  though  his  political  courage 
seems  somewhat  problematical :  how- 
ever, it  is  a  fault  on  the  right  side  ;  for 
had  he  always  been  as  firm  and  un- 
daunted in  the  closet  as  he  shewed 
himself  at  Oudenarde  and  Dettingen, 
he  might  not  have  proved  quite  so 
good  a  king  in  this  limited  monarchy. 

In  the  drawing-room,  he  is  gracious 
and  polite  to  the  ladies,  and  remarkably 
cheerful  and  familiar  with  those  who 
are  handsome,  or  with   the   few  of  his 


m&mB&smm 


■I-  A 


C     A\     S     A     R     J 
P  [  0      PEL  I  C  I 
()    R;    B     I     S 
A    R    T    I    V    M 


£PMMMO 

I  N  VICTl'SSIMO 
A    V    G    V    S    T    0 
PA  C  IF I CAT  OR  I 
S   T   A   T    O    R    I 


j/'MoitfA:  nur 


( See  page  253.) 


King  George  II.  and  Queen  Caroline     253 

old  acquaintance  who  were  beauties  in  exactness,    except    on    particular   occa- 

his  younger  days.   ...  sions,  when  he  outruns  his  own  orders, 

His  servants  are  never  disturbed  with  and    expects   those    who   are  to  attend 

any  unnecessary  waiting ;   for  he  is  reg-  him    before    the    time   of    his    appoint- 

ular  in  all  his  motions  to  the  greatest  ment.   .   .   . 


EDITORIAL. 


THE    SEVEN    YEARS      WAR. 


["It  is  a  turning  point  in  our 
national  history,  as  it  is  a  turning  point 
in  the  history  of  the  world,"  writes 
Green  referring  to  the  Seven  Years' 
War.  It  made  England  mistress  of 
North  America  and  potential  ruler  over 
India.  It  was  the  stalling  point  for  a 
period  of  unparalleled  wealth  and 
prosperity. 

So  complicated  a  subject  lends  itself 
so  little  to  our  system  of  illustrating 
events  by  contemporary  narratives  that 
we  must  pass  it  over  with  a  few  brief 
remarks. 

In  1740  Frederick  the  Great,  suc- 
ceeding to  the  Prussian  throne,  wrote 
to  Voltaire:  "The  time  has  come  for 
an  entire  change  in  the  old  political 
system,  the  stone  has  again  broken 
loose  which  once  descended  on  the 
four-metalled  image  of  Nebuchadnez- 
zar and  destroyed  it  utterly."  He 
inaugurated  the  change  by  descending 
himself  on  the  Austrian  province  of 
Silesia.  It  was,  indeed,  as  he  said 
himself  "  the  boldest,  most  rapid  and 
grandest  undertaking  in  which  a  prince 
of  his  house  had  ever  been  engaged." 
Grimly  the  young  Queen,  Maria  The- 
resa, fought  for  her  rights  ;  with  small 
support  from  her  husband,  who  was 
such  a  nonentity  that  she  listened  at 
the  door  when  he  held  interviews, 
ready  to  interrupt  if  he  seemed  about 
to  commit  himself,  she  held  the  enemy 
at  bay  as  long  as  she  could.  In  Eng- 
land, indeed,  she  found  an  ally  willing 
at   least   to  pour  streams  of  gold    into 


her  lap.  Frederick  the  Great  seemed 
cut  out  by  nature  to  be  the  hereditary 
enemy  of  the  House  of  Hanover  :  "  We 
must  clip  this  prince's  wings,"  said 
George  II  to  the  Polish-Saxon  envoy  ; 
"he  is  too  dangerous  for  both  of  us." 

Frederick  for  his  part,  after  the 
battle  of  Mollwitz,  had  no  lack  of 
friends  and  was  able  to  carry  out  a 
threat  he  had  once  made  to  the  English 
envoy,  Guy  Dickens.  "If  the  worst 
comes  to  the  worst,"  he  had  said,  "I 
shall  join  with  France  and  beat  and 
bite  and  devastate  in  all  directions." 
It  was  as  a  part  of  this  policy  that  in 
1742  he  put  up  his  puppet  Emperor, 
Charles  Albert  of  Bavaria,  who  took 
the  name  of  Charles  VII.  The  Frencli 
and  the  Prussians,  indeed,  did  not  pull 
well  together ;  there  was  tardiness  and 
unwillingness  on  the  one  hand,  and 
something  like  treachery  on  the  other. 
Frederick  made  his  own  peace,  at  Bres- 
lau,  and  left  France  to  continue  the 
struggle.  The  Due  de  Noaille  was 
defeated  at  Dettingen,  in  which  battle 
George  II  took  part,  conducting  him- 
self with  considerable  bravery. 

In  1744  Frederick  re-entered  the 
arena,  partly  through  jealousy  of  Eng- 
land ;  he  wished,  he  declared  to  Pode- 
wils,  that  the  Devil  would  take  his  uncle 
George.  He  made  a  new  treaty  with 
Louis  XV  by  which  the  prospective 
spoils  were  to  be  divided  between  him- 
self, the  Emperor  and  the  French  King  ; 
but  again  the  old  jealousies  arose,  and 
again  Frederick,  enabled   by  his   bril- 


254 


The  Seven  Years'  War 


liant  victories  of  Hohenfriedberg,  Sohr 
and  Kesselsdorf  to  make  advantageous 
terms  for  himself  at  Dresden,  withdrew 
from  the  struggle.  The  French  called 
him  a  "filigree  king,"  a  regular  frifion. 
He  retained  Silesia,  but  Maria  Theresa 
never  really  acquiesced  in  her  fate. 
The  interval  of  peace  she  employed  in 
strengthening  her  resources.  She  in- 
tended to  renew  the  contest  with  over- 
whelming numbers;  immediately  after 
the  Peace  of  Dresden  the  Zarina,  Eliz- 
abeth, had  offered  her  90,000  men;  the 
King  of  France  would  be  easy  to  win, 
Saxony  and  Sweden  might  already  be 
counted  upon.  Prussia  was  to  be  sud- 
denly attacked  and  utterly  dismem- 
bered. Elizabeth  of  Russia  hated 
Frederick  with  the  implacable  hatred 
of  an  utterly  depraved  woman.  She 
knew  what  he  thought  of  her  drunken 
orgies  and  vulgar  intrigues ;  officious 
tongues  had  retailed  to  her  his  scathing 
witticisms  at  her  expense.  She  was 
more  fierce  in  her  desire  to  ruin  him 
than  Maria  Theresa  herself.  As  for 
France,  she  had  remained  outwardly 
on  good  terms  with  Frederick  ;  indeed 
in  1753,  when  the  defeat  of  Geoi-ge 
Washington  at  Fort  Duquesne  made 
certain  the  prospect  of  a  long  and 
•bitter  struggle  with  England,  Frederick 
urged  the  French  ambassador  to  invade 
Hanover.     "That  is  the  surest  means 

of  making  this change  his  tune," 

he  said,  using  an  epithet  so  strong  for 
George  II  that  the  envoy  did  not  dare 
repeat  it  to  his  government.  But  sud- 
denly his  own  tune  changed ;  anxiety 
for  the  safety  of  his  electorate  induced 
George  II  to  sign  with  him  the  Con- 
vention of  Westminster.  France  and 
Austria  then  joined  hands. 

Frederick  had  secret  agents  who  kept 
him  informed  of  the  plans  of  his  advers- 
aries ;  he  had  no  intention  of  waiting 
to  be  attacked.  "  If  this  lady,"  he  said 
to  the  English  envoy,  pointing  at  the 


same  time  to  a  portrait  of  Maria  The- 
resa which  hung  on  the  wall,  "  if  this 
lady  wishes  war,  she  shall  have  it  quick." 
"Look  into  my  face,"  he  had  said  a 
moment  before;  "does  my  nose  look 
like  one  that  fingers  can  be  wagged  at? 
By  God,  I'll  not  stand  it !  " 

On  the  actual  operations  of  the  war 
there  is  no  need  to  dwell.  Frederick 
fell  upon  Saxony,  but  the  siege  of  Pirna 
cost  him  much  invaluable  time.  Eng- 
land was  hard  pressed  both  in  America 
and  in  India  and  could  not  at  once  come 
to  his  aid.  The  allies  closed  in  around 
him.  He  wOn  Prague  but  was  disas- 
trously defeated  at  Kolin,  and  obliged 
to  abandon  his  plan  of  a  Bohemian 
campaign.  The  Duke  of  Cumberland, 
who  was  finally  put  in  command  of  a 
Hanoverian-Hessian  force,  ran  into  a 
cul  de  sac  and  was  obliged  to  sign  the 
convention  of  Kloster  Severn.  Fred- 
erick's fortunes  sank  lower  and  lower; 
he  tried  to  bribe  Madame  de  Pompadour 
to  bring  about  a  peace  with  France. 
Then  the  battle  of  Rossbach  changed 
all ;  20,000  Prussians  put  to  flight 
more  than  twice  that  number  of  French  ; 
the  battle  of  Leuthen,  which  soon  fol- 
lowed, would  alone,  to  quote  Napoleon, 
have  sufficed  to  make  Frederick  im- 
mortal. 

England  now  awakened  to  her  respon- 
sibilities ;  Pitt  cried  out  in  parliament, 
"  I  feel  the  most  grateful  sentiments  of 
veneration  and  zeal  for  a  Prince  who 
stands  the  unshaken  bulwark  of  Europe 
against  the  most  powerful  and  malig- 
nant confederacy  that  ever  yet  has 
threatened  the  independence  of  man- 
kind." Four  million  pounds  was  voted, 
and  a  really  capable  general,  Ferdinand 
of  Brunswick,  was  placed  at  the  head  of 
the  Hanoverian  army. 

Year  after  year,  with  dwindling 
forces,  Frederick  and  Ferdinand  held 
their  own.  The  latter' s  brilliant  vic- 
tory   at    Minden    offset    the    former's 


1>  OF   THE  *  r 

UNIVERSITY 


I  JMCABETb 

fjiAfnwth 


The  Seven  Years'  War 


25  5 


■crushing  defeat  by  the  Russians  at 
Kunersdorf  and  the  surrender  of  12,000 
men  at  Maxen.  Liegnitz  and  Torgau 
helped  still  further  to  restore  the  bal- 
ance ;  but  even  victories  meant  the  loss 
of  men  whom  it  was  impossible  now  to 
replace.  Frederick's  enemies  could 
draw  from  a  population  numbering  60 
million  souls,  Prussia  could  boast  of 
but  four  million  and  a  half.  The 
French  often  outnumbered  Ferdinand 
of  Brunswick  by  two  to  one,  while  in 
1 761 ,  Frederick  could  muster  but  96,000 
against  three  times  as  many  of  the  Rus- 
sians and  Austrians. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  came  the  news 
from  England  that  Pitt  had  fallen  and 
been  replaced  by  the  pacific  Bute,  who 
did  not  renew  the  military  convention 
with  Prussia.  The  subsidies  ceased ; 
Frederick  was  coldly  told  to  make 
peace  even  at  the  price  of  some  of  his 
provinces.  Bute  was  ready  for  his  own 
part  to  sacrifice  almost  any  of  his  recent 
conquests ;  ready,  too,  to  descend  to 
almost  any  depths  of  political  ignominy. 
Could  disloyalty  to  a  former  ally  have 
well  gone  further  than  the  sending  of 
.an  envoy  to  the  Russian  court  to  urge 
it  to  continue  its  armies  in  the  field,  lest 
Frederick,  having  free  play  against 
Maria  Theresa,  might  push  his  advan- 
tage and  thus  prolong  the  struggle  ?  It 
was  the  news  of  conduct  like  this  that 


made  England's  own  representative, 
Mitchell,  cry  out  in  agony,  "  I  am  tired 
of  my  accursed  trade." 

Frederick  himself  took  matters  more 
calmly.  "The  English  thought,"  he 
wrote  later,  "that  money  did  every- 
thing and  that  there  was  no  money 
except  in  England."  But  he  never  for- 
gave this  base  desertion ;  when  Eng- 
land's  war  with  her  American  colonies 
broke  out,  all  his  sympathies  were  with 
the  latter,  and  on  the  Hessian  soldiers 
who  were  bought  to  fight  across  the 
water  he  placed  the  same  tax,  when 
they  crossed  his  domains,  as  on  cattle 
going  to  slaughter.  He  was  kept  from 
despair  now  by  the  death  of  his  arch 
enemy  Elizabeth,  whose  successor  Peter 
the  Third  had  always  looked  on  Fred- 
erick as  a  hero,  and  is  even  said  to  have 
sent  him  anonymous  warnings.  The 
very  troops  that  had  fought  against 
him  were  made  for  a  moment:  to  fight 
on  his  side,  and  though  the  death  of 
Peter  soon  necessitated  their  recall  they 
were  not  again  employed  against  him. 
The  Peace  of  Hubertsburg  finally  put 
an  end  to  the  war,  from  which  Frederick 
emerged  neither  richer  nor  poorer  in 
land,  but  immeasurably  higher  in  pres- 
tige. England  received  from  the  French, 
Canada  and  that  part  of  the  present 
United  States  which  is  east  of  the 
Mississipi.] 


GROUP  XXVII. 


THE    ACCESSION    OF   GEORGE    III. 


i.  Extracts  from  .  Waldegrave' s 
Memoirs.      (London,  1821,  p.  63.) 

I  had  been  appointed  governor  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales  towards  the  end  of  the 
year  1752,  when  Earl  Harcourt  re- 
signed. ...  I  found  his  Royal  High- 
ness uncommonly  full  of  princely  prej- 
udices, contracted  in  the  nursery,  and 


improved  by  the  society  of  bed-chamber 
women,  and  pages  of  the  back-stairs. 

As  a  right  system  of  education 
seemed  quite  impracticable,  the  best 
which  could  be  hoped  for  was  to  give 
him  true  notions  of  common  things  ;  to 
instruct  him  by  conversation,  rather 
than  by  books ;  and  sometimes,  under 
the    disguise  of    amusement,   to   entice 


256  The  Accession  of  George  III, 


him    to    tne    pursuit    01     more    serious 
studies.   .... 

1758. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  is  entering  into 
his  2 1  st  year,  and  it  would  be  unfair  to 
decide  upon  his  character  in  the  early 
stages  of  life,  when  there  is  so  much 
time  for  improvement. 

His  parts,  though  not  excellent,  will 
be  found  very  tolerable,  if  ever  they  are 
properly  exercised.  He  is  strictly 
honest,  but  wants  that  frank  and  open 
behaviour  which  makes  honesty  appear 
amiable.  When  he  had  a  very  scanty 
allowance,  it  was  one  of  his  favorite 
maxims  that  men  should  be  just  before 
they  are  generous  :  his  income  is  now 
very  considerably  augmented,  but  his 
generosity  has  not  increased  in  equal 
proportion.  His  religion  is  free  from 
all  hypocrisy,  but  is  not  of  the  most 
charitable  sort ;  he  has  rather  too  much 
attention  to  the  sins  of  his  neighbour. 

He  has  spirit,  but  not  of  the  active 
kind ;  and  does  not  want  resolution, 
but  it  is  mixed  with  too  much  obstinacy. 
He  has  great  command  of  his  passions, 
and  will  seldom  do  wrong,  except  when 
he  mistakes  wrong  for  right ;  but  as 
often  as  this  shall  happen,  it  will  be 
difficult  to  undeceive  him,  because  he 
is  uncommonly  indolent,  and  has  strong 
prejudices. 

His  want  of  application  and  aversion 
to  business  would  be  far  less  dangerous, 
was  he  eager  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure  ; 
for  the  transition  from  pleasure  to  busi- 
ness is  both  shorter  and  easier  than 
from  a  state  of  total  inaction. 

He  has  a  kind  of  unhappiness  in  his 
temper,  which,  if  it  be  not  conquered 
before  it  has  taken  too  deep  a  root,  will 
be  a  source  of  frequent  anxiety.  When- 
ever he  is  displeased,  his  anger  does  not 
break  out  with  heat  and  violence ;  but 
he  becomes  sullen  and  silent,  and  re- 
tires to  his  closet ;  not  to  compose  his 
mind   by   study   or   contemplation,   but 


merely  to  indulge  the  melancholy  enjoy- 
ment of  his  own  ill  humor.  Even 
when  the  fit  is  ended,  unfavorable 
symptoms  very  frequently  return, 
which  indicate  that  on  certain  occasions 
his  Royal  Highness  has  too  correct  a 
memory. 

Though  I  have  mentioned  his  good 
and  bad  qualities,  without  flattery,  and 
without  aggravation,  allowances  should 
still  be  made,  on  account  of  his  youth,, 
and  his  bad  education.  .  .  .  The 
mother  and  the  nursery  always  pre- 
vailed. 

During  the  course  of  the  last  year,, 
there  has  indeed,  been  some  alteration  ; 
the  authority  of  the  nursery  has  grad- 
ually declined,  and  the  Earl  of  Bute, 
by  the  assistance  of  the  mother,  ha& 
now  the  entire  confidence.  But  whether 
this  change  will  be  greatly  to  his  Royal 
Highness' s  advantage,  is  a  nice  ques- 
tion, which  cannot  hitherto  be  deter- 
mined with  any  certainty. 

!755- 

.  .  .  He  [Lord  Bute]  had  been  a 
lord  of  the  bedchamber  to  the  late 
prince  [Frederick]  ;  has  a  good  person, 
fine  legs,  and  a  theatrical  air  of  the 
gi-eatest  importance. 

There  is  an  extraordinary  appear- 
ance of  wisdom,  both  in  his  look  and 
manner  of  speaking ;  for  whether  the 
subject  be  serious  or  trifling,  he  is 
equally  pompous,  slow,  and  sententious. 

Not  contented  with  being  wise,  he 
would  be  thought  a  polite  scholar,  and 
a  man  of  great  erudition  :  but  has  the 
misfortune  never  to  succeed  except  with 
those  who  are  exceeding  ignorant :  for 
his  historical  knowledge  is  chiefly  taken 
from  tragedies,  wherein  he  is  very 
deeply  read ;  and  his  classical  learning 
extends  no  farther  than  a  French  trans- 
lation. 

The  late  Prince  of  Wales,  who  was 
not  overnice  in  the  choice  of  ministers, 
used  frequently  to  say  that  Bute  was  a 


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FREDERICK    AND    PETER    MAKING    PEACE. 
Contemporary  news  leaf. 

(  See  page  255.) 


*  OF    THE         ^i> 

UNIVERSITY 


The  Accession  of  Geonre  III, 


257 


fine  showy  man,  who  would  make  an 
excellent  ambassador  in  a  court  where 
there  was  no  business.  Such  was  his 
Royal  Highness' s  opinion  of  the  noble 
earl's  political  abilities;  but  the  sagac- 
ity of  the  princess  dowager  has  discov- 
ered other  accomplishments,  of  which 
the  prince  her  husband  may  not  per- 
haps have  been  the  most  competent 
judge.   .   .   . 

.  .  .  The  Princess  of  Wales's  unlim- 
ited confidence  in  the  Earl  of  Bute 
has  been  ah'eady  mentioned ;  and  by 
the  good  offices  of  the  mother,  he 
also  became  the  avowed  favorite  of  the 
young  prince,  who  was  just  entering 
into  his  nineteenth  year,  the  time  of  his 
majority,  in  case  the  king  had  been 
dead. 


2.  Lord  Chesterfield's  Character  of 
Lord  Bute.  Written  in  1764.  (In 
Works,  Vol.  II.  p.  470.) 

The  Earl  of  Bute  was  of  an  ancient 
family  in  Scotland.  .  .  .  He  married 
the  daughter  of  Wortley  Montague,  by 
Lady  Mary  Pierrepont,  eminent  for  her 
parts  and  her  vices.  .  .  .  She  proved 
an  immense  fortune  by  the  death  of  her 
father  and  mother,  who,  disinheriting 
their  son,  left  her  five  or  six  hundred 
thousand  pounds.   .   .   . 

He  [Lord  Bute]  came  to  town,  five 
or  six  years  before  the  death  of  the  late 
Frederick  Prince  of  Wales,  to  whom 
he  wholly  attached  himself.  He  soon 
got  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  pleasures  of 
that  little,  idle,  frivolous  and  dissipated 
Court.  He  was  the  Intendant  of  balls, 
the  Coryphoeus  of  plays,  in  which  he 
acted  himself,  and  so  grew  into  a  sort 
of  favourite  of  that  merry  Prince.  The 
Scandalous  Chronicle  says,  that  he  was 
still  a  greater  favourite  of  the  Princess 
of  Wales  :  I  will  not,  nor  cannot  decide 
upon  that  fact.   .   .   . 


When  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales 
died,  and  the  present  King  George  the 
Third  became  immediate  Heir  to  the 
Crown,  Lord  Bute  very  prudently  at- 
tached himself  wholly  to  him,  not  only 
with  the  approbation,  but  I  believe,  at 
the  request,  of  the  Princess  Dowager. 
In  this  he  succeeded  beyond  his  most 
sanguine  wishes.  He  entirely  engrossed 
not  only  the  affections,  but  even  the 
senses  of  the  young  Prince,  who  seemed 
to  have  made  a  total  surrender  of  them 
all  to  Lord  Bute.  In  this  interval, 
between  the  death  of  the  Princess  of 
Wales  and  the  expected  death  of  King 
George  the  Second,  the  Princess  Dow- 
ager and  Lord  Bute  agreed  to  keep  the 
young  Prince  entirely  to  themselves ; 
none  but  their  immediate  and  lowest 
creatures  were  suffered  to  approach  him 
except  at  his  levees,  where  none  are 
seen  as  they  are ;  he  saw  nobody,  and 
nobody  saw  him  :  Lord  Bute,  indeed, 
was  with  him  alone  some  hours  every 
day,  to  instruct  him,  as  he  pretended, 
in  the  art  of  Government ;  but  whether 
or  no  any  man  labours  to  instruct  and 
inform  the  Prince  whom  he  means  one 
day  to  govern  is  with  me  a  very  doubt- 
ful point. 

At  length  the  wished-for  day  came, 
and  the  death  of  King  George  the  Second 
made  room  for  King  George  the  Thnd. 
He,  like  a  new  Sultan,  was  lugged  out  of 
the  Seraglio  by  the  Princess  and  Lord 
Bute,  and  placed  upon  the  Throne. 
Here  the  new  scene  opened :  Lord 
Bute  arrived  from  the  greatest  favour 
to  the  highest  power  and  took  no  care 
to  dissemble  or  soften  either,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  public,  who  always  look 
upon  them  with  envy  and  malignity ; 
but  on  the  contrary,  avowed  them  both 
openly.  He  interfered  in  everything, 
disposed  of  everything,  and  undertook 
everything,  much  too  soon  for  his  inex- 
perience in  business. 


258  The  Accession  of  George  III. 


3.  Lord  Chesterfield's  character  of 
Pitt.  Written  in  1762.  (In  Works, 
Vol.  II.  p.  467.) 

Mr.  Pitt  owed  his  rise  to  the  most 
considerable  posts  and  power  in  this 
kingdom  singly  to  his  own  abilities. 
In  him  they  supplied  the  want  of  birth 
and  fortune,  which  latter  in  others  too 
often  supply  the  want  of  the  former. 
He  was  a  younger  brother  of  a  very 
new  family,  and  his  fortune  only  an 
annuity  of  one  hundred  pounds  a  year. 
His  constitution  refused  him  the  usual 
pleasures,  and  his  genius  forbad  him 
the  idle  dissipations,  of  youth  ;  for  so 
early  as  at  the  age  of  sixteen  he  was 
the  martyr  of  an  hereditary  gout.  He 
therefore  employed  the  leisure,  which 
that  tedious  and  painful  distemper 
either  procured  or  allowed  him,  in 
acquiring  a  great  fund  of  premature  and 
useful  knowledge.  .  .  His  ruling  pas- 
sion was  an  unbounded  ambition,  which, 
when  supported  by  great  abilities,  and 
crowned  with  great  success,  make  what 
the  world  calls  "a  great  man."  He 
was  haughty,  imperious,  impatient  of 
contradiction,  and  over-bearing :  qual- 
ities which  too  often  accompany,  but 
always  clog  great  ones.   .   .   . 

He  came  young  into  Parliament,  and 
upon  that  great  theatre  soon  equalled 
the  oldest  and  the  ablest  actors.  His 
eloquence  was  of  every  kind,  and  he 
excelled  in  the  argumentative  as  well  as 
in  the  declamatory  way.  But  his  invec- 
tives were  terrible,  and  uttered  with 
such  energy  of  diction,  and  stern  dig- 
nity of  action  and  countenance,  that  he 
intimidated  those  who  were  the  most 
willing  and  the  best  able  to  encounter 
him.  Their  arms  fell  out  of  their 
hands,  and  they  shrunk  under  the 
ascendant  which  his  genius  gained  over 
theirs.   .   .   . 

The  weight  of  his  popularity,  and 
his  universally  acknowledged  abilities, 
obtruded   him   upon  King  George  the 


Second,  to  whom  he  was  personally 
obnoxious.  He  was  made  Secretary  of 
State ;  in  this  difficult  and  delicate  sit- 
uation. ...  he  managed  with  such 
ability  that,  while  he  served  the  King 
more  effectually  ...  he  still  preserved 
all  his  credit  and  popularity  with  the 
public  ;  whom  he  assured  and  convinced, 
that  the  protection  and  defence  of  Han- 
over, with  an  army  of  seventy-five 
thousand  men  in  British  pay,  was  the 
only  possible  method  of  securing  our 
possessions  or  acquisitions  in  North 
America.  So  much  easier  is  it  to 
deceive  than  to  undeceive  mankind. 


4.  Horace     W^alpole,     Memoirs     of 
George  II.      (London,  1S47,  p.  84.) 

1758. 
Pitt  was  now  arrived  at  undisturbed 
possession  of  that  influence  in  affairs  at 
which  his  ambition  had  aimed,  and 
which  his  presumption  had  made  him 
flatter  himself  he  could  exert  like  those 
men  of  superior  genius,  whose  talents 
have  been  called  forth  by  some  crisis  to 
retrieve  a  sinking  nation.  He  had  said 
the  last  year  to  the  Duke  of  Devon- 
shire, "  My  Lord,  I  am  sure  I  can  save 
this  country,  and  nobody  else  can." 
It  were  ingratitude  to  him  to  say  that 
he  did  not  give  such  a  reverberation  to 
our  stagnating  Councils,  as  exceedingly 
altered  the  appearance  of  our  fortune. 
He  warded  off  the  evil  hour  that 
seemed  approaching ;  he  infused  vigour 
into  our  arms ;  he  taught  the  nation  to 
speak  again  as  England  used  to  speak 
to  Foreign  Powers ;  and  so  far  from 
dreading  invasions  from  France,  he 
affected  to  turn  us  into  invaders. 


5.  Extract  from  Walpole's  Memoirs 
of  the  Reign  of  George  III.  (London 
and  New  York,  1894.) 

No  British  monarch  has  ascended  the 
throne  with  so  many  advantages  as 
George  the  Third.     Being  the  first  of 


The  Accession  of  George  III.  259 


his  line  born  in  England,  the  prejudice 
against  his  family  as  foreigners  ceased 
in  his  person — Hanover  was  no  longer 
the  native  soil  of  our  Princes ;  conse- 
quently, attachment  to  the  Electorate 
was  not  likely  to  govern  our  councils, 
as  it  had  done  in  the  last  two  reigns. 
This  circumstance,  too,  of  his  birth, 
shifted  the  unpopularity  of  foreign 
extraction  from  the  House  of  Bruns- 
wick to  the  Stuarts.  In  the  flower 
and  bloom  of  youth,  George  had  a 
handsome,  open,  and  honest  counte- 
nance ;  and  with  the  favour  that  attends 
the  outward  accomplishments  of  his 
age,  he  had  none  of  the  vices  that  fall 
under  the  censure  of  those  who  are 
past  enjoying  them  themselves. 

The  moment  of  his  accession  was 
fortunate  beyond  example.  .  .  .  The 
administration  was  firm,  in  good  har- 
mony with  one  another,  and  headed  by 
the  most  successful  genius  [Pitt]  that 
ever  presided  over  our  councils.  Con- 
quests had  crowned  our  arms  with 
wonderful  circumstances  of  glory  and 
fortune ;  and  the  young  King  seemed 
to  have  the  option  of  extending  our 
victories  and  acquisitions,  or  of  giving 
peace  to  the  world,  by  finding  himself 
in  a  situation  so  favourable,  that  neither 
his  ambition  nor  moderation  could  have 
been  equitably  reprehended.   .   .   . 

A  passionate,  domineering  woman, 
and  a  Favourite,  without  talents,  soon 
drew  a  cloud  over  this  shining  prospect. 
.  .  .  The  measure  of  war  was  pushed, 
without  even  a  desire  that  it  should  be 
successful ;  and  .  .  .  although  success- 
ful, it  was  unnaturally  checked  by  a 
peace,  too  precipitate,  too  indigested, 
and  too  shameful,  to  merit  the  coldest 
eulogy  of  moderation.   .   .    . 

In  his  first  council  the  King  named 
his  brother  the  Duke  of  York,  and 
Lord  Bute,  of  the  Cabinet.  .  .  .  The 
King's  speech  to  his  council  afforded 
matter  of  remark,  and  gave  early  speci- 


men of  who  was  to  be  the  confidential 
minister,  and  what  measures  were  to 
be  pursued  :  for  it  was  drawn  by  Lord 
Bute.  ...  It  talked  of  a  bloody  and 
expensive  war,  and  of  obtaining  an 
honourable  and  lasting  peace.  Thus 
was  it  delivered  ;  but  Mr.  Pitt  went  to 
Lord  Bute  that  evening,  and,  after  an 
altercation  of  three  hours,  prevailed 
that  in  the  printed  copy  the  words 
should  be  changed  to  an  expensive  but 
just  and  necessary  war ;  and  that  after 
the  words  honourable  peace  should  be 
inserted,  in  concert  with  otir  allies. 
...  It  was  two  o'clock  of  the  follow- 
ing afternoon  before  the  King  would 
yield  to  the  alteration.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Pitt  was  too  quick-sighted  not  to 
perceive  what  would  be  the  complexion 
of  the  new  reign.  His  favourite  war 
was  already  struck  at.  He  himself  had 
for  some  time  been  on  the  coldest 
terms  with  Lord  Bute ;  for  possession 
of  power,  and  reversion  of  power 
could  not  fail  to  make  two  natures  so 
haughty,  incompatible.  It  was  said, 
and  I  believe  with  truth,  that  an  outset 
so  unpromising  to  his  darling  measures 
made  Mr.  Pitt  propose  to  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle  a  firm  union  against  the 
Favourite.  .  .  .  Whether  these  two 
men,  so  powerful  in  Parliament  and  in 
the  nation,  could  have  balanced  the 
headlong  affection  that  attends  every 
new  young  Prince,  is  uncertain, — I 
think  they  could.  A  war  so  triumphant 
had  captivated  the  whole  country.  The 
Favourite  was  unknown,  ungracious 
and  a  Scot :  his  connexion  with  the 
Princess,  an  object  of  scandal.  ...  At  i 
least  the  union  of  Pitt  and  Newcastle 
would  have  checked  the  torrent,  which 
soon  carried  everything  in  favour  of 
Prerogative.  Newcastle's  time-serving 
undermined  Mr.  Pitt,  was  destructive 
to  himself,  threw  away  all  the  advan- 
tages of  the  war,  and  brought  the ' 
country  to  the  brink  of  ruin.   .   .   . 


260  The  Accession  of  George  III, 


As  far  as  could  be  discerned  of  the 
King's  natural  disposition  it  was  hu- 
mane and  benevolent.  .  .  .  Silence 
served  him  to  bear  with  unwelcome 
ministers,  or  to  part  with  them.  His 
childhood  was  tinctured  with  obstinacy  : 
it  was  adopted  at  the  beginning  of  his 
reign,  and  called  firmness,  but  did  not 
prove  to  be  his  complexion.  In  truth, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  draw  his  char- 
acter in  positive  colours.  He  had 
neither  passions  nor  activity.  He  re- 
signed himself  obsequiously  to  the  gov- 
ernment of  his  mother  and  Lord  Bute  : 
learned,  and  even  entered  with  art  into 
the  lessons  they  inspired,  but  added 
nothing  of  his  own.  When  the  task 
was  clone,  he  relapsed  into  indifference 
and  indolence  till  roused  to  the  next 
day's  part. 

The  indecent  and  injudicious  precip- 
itation with  which  the  Favourite's  fac- 
tion hurried  towards  peace,  justified  any 
steadiness  Mr.  Pitt  could  exert  to  keep 
the  balance  where  he  had  placed  it,  in 
our  own  hands.   .   .   . 

While  the  attention  of  mankind  hung 
on  the  negotiation  [with  France,  for 
peace],  the  King's  messengers  were 
suddenly  sent  forth  to  all  privy  Coun- 
cillors to  meet  at  one  o'clock,  at  St. 
James's  July  8th,  on  urgent  and  impor- 
tant business.  The  business  itsself  was 
an  absolute  secret.  Everybody  con- 
cluded that  so  solemn  and  unusual  a 
summons  of  the  Council  was  to  give 
fuller  sanction  to  peace.  How  great 
was  the  general  surprise  when  they 
heard  his  Majesty  had  convened  this 
assembly  to  notify  his  intended  mar- 
riage with  the  princess  of  Mecklenburg 
Strelitz  !  A  resolution  taken  and  con- 
ducted with  so  much  mystery,  that  till 
that  hour  perhaps  not  six  men  in  Eng- 
land knew  such  a  Princess  existed.   .  .  . 

The  King  was  fallen  in  love  with 
Lady  Sarah  Lennox,  sister  of  the  Duke 
of  Richmond  ;  a  very  young  lady  of  the 


most  blooming  beauty.  .  .  .  What 
concurred  to  make  her  formidable  to 
the  mother  and  favourite,  was,  her 
being  under  the  tutorage  of  Mr.  Fox, 
her  eldest  sister's  husband;  and  in 
truth,  she  and  her  family  spared  no 
assiduity  to  fix  the  young  monarch's 
heart.  .  .  .  The  King' s  overtures  were 
so  encouraging,  that  Fox's  views  ex- 
tended even  to  placing  the  young  lady 
on  the  throne  ...  he  (Fox)  left  Lady 
Sarah  at  Holland  House,  where  she 
appeared  every  morning  in  a  field  close 
to  the  great  road  (where  the  King 
passed  on  horseback)  in  a  fancied  habit, 
making  hay. 

Such  mutual  propensity  fixed  the  re- 
solution of  the  Princess.  One,  Colonel 
Graeme,  was  despatched  in  the  most 
private  manner  as  a  traveller,  and  vested 
with  no  character,  to  visit  various  little 
Protestant  Com'ts,  and  make  report  of 
the  qualifications  of  the  several  un- 
married princesses.  Beauty,  and  still 
less,  talents,  were  not,  it  is  likely,  the 
first  objects  of  his  instructions.  On  the 
testimony  of  this  man  the  golden  apple 
was  given  to  the  Princess  of  Mecklen- 
burg ;  and  the  marriage  precipitately 
concluded.  ...  So  complete  was  the 
King's  deference  to  the  will  of  his 
mother,  that  he  blindly  accepted  the 
bride  she  had  chosen  for  him  ;  though 
to  the  very  day  of  the  council,  he  carried 
on  his  courtship  to  Lady  Sarah ;  and 
she  did  not  doubt  of  receiving  the  crown 
from  him,  till  she  heard  the  public 
declaration  of  its  being  designed  for 
another. 


6.  Extract  from  the  Stuart  MSS. 
(In  Jesse,  Memoirs  of  Geo.  III.  Vol.  I. 
p.  90.) 

{Account  of  ®>ueen  Charlotte  by 
Sophia  Stuart,  daughter-in-law 
of  Lord  Bute.) 

In  the  latter  years  of    Queen  Char- 
lotte's life,  I  used  often  to  spend  some 
at  the  Castle,  and  in  one  of  these 


The  Accession  of  George  III.  261 


visits  heard  her  Majesty  describe  her 
own  wedding.  She  described  her  life 
at  Mecklenburg  as  one  of  extreme  re- 
tirement. They  dressed  only  en  robe 
de  chambre  except  on  Sundays,  on 
which  day  she  put  on  her  best  gown, 
and  after  service,  which  was  very  long, 
took  an  airing  in  the  coach  and  six, 
attended  by  guards  and  all  the  state  she 
could  muster.  She  had  not  "dined  at 
table"  at  the  period  I  am  speaking  of. 
One  morning,  her  eldest  brother,  of 
whom  she  seems  to  have  stood  in  great 
awe,  came  to  her  room  in  company 
with  the  Duchess,  her  mother.  He 
told  her  to  prepare  her  best  clothes,  for 
they  were  to  have  grand  convert  to 
receive  an  ambassador  from  the  King 
of  England,  and  that  she  should  for  the 
first  time  dine  with  them.  He  added  : 
— "You  will  sit  next  him  at  dinner: 
mind  what  you  say,  and  ne  faites  pas 
l' ejzfant" — a  favourite  expression  of 
his — -"  and  try  to  amuse  him,  and  show 
him  that  you  are  not  a  fool."  She 
then  asked  her  mother  if  she  was  to 
put    on    her    blue    tabby  — "  et    mcs 


bijoi 


"  A/on  enfant,"   said  the 


Duchess,  "  tu  n'  en  as  point."  And 
the  Queen  produced  her  garnet  ear- 
rings, which  were  strings  of  beads 
sown  on  a  plate,  about  the  size  of  a 
half-crown,  and  were  then  in  fashion  ; 
but  which,  as  she  said,  a  housemaid  of 
these  days  would  despise.  Thus  at- 
tired, she  followed  her  mother  into  the 
saloon,  and  Mr.  Drummond  was  intro- 
duced to  her.  To  her  great  surprise 
her  brother  led  her  out  first,  which  she 
supposed  he  did  because  it  was  her  first 
appearance.  Mr.  Drummond  sat  at 
her  right  hand.  She  asked  him  about 
his  journey,  and  of  England,  and  then 
added  : — "  On  me  dit  que  votre  Rot 
est  tres  extremement  beau  et  tres-aim- 
ablc,"  which  seemed  to  raise  a  smile 
both  in  him  and  the  Duke.  A  little 
frightened,  she  next  added: — "  Appa- 


remment  vous  etcs  venu  dcmander  la 
Princesse  dc  Prusse.  On  dit  qu' elle 
est  t res-belle  et  qu1  elle  sera  votre 
Reine?"  "  Jc  demande  pardon  a 
voire  Altessc ;  jc  n' ai  aucune  com- 
mission pour  cela."  And  the  smiles 
were  so  striking  that  she  had  not  cour- 
age to  open  her  lips  again.  In  a  few 
minutes,  however,  the  folding-doors 
flew  open  to  the  saloon,  which  she  saw 
splendidly  illuminated ;  and  there  ap- 
peared a  table,  two  cushions,  and  every- 
thing prepared  for  a  wedding.  Her 
brother  then  gave  her  his  hand  ;  and, 
leading  her  in,  used  his  favourite  ex- 
pression :  —  "  Allons,  ne  faites  pas 
r enfant — tu  vas  etre  Reine  d' Angle- 
terre"  Mr.  Drummond  then  ad- 
vanced. They  knelt  down.  The  cere- 
mony, whatever  it  was,  proceeded. 
She  was  laid  on  the  sofa,  upon  which 
he  laid  his  foot ;  and  they  all  embraced 
her,  calling  her,  "  la  Reine."  Mr. 
Drummond  then  gave  her  a  magnificent 
ecrin  of  diamonds,  one  jewel  of  which 
was  a  little  crown  which  I  have  often 
seen  her  wear.  The  evening  passed  in 
admiring  the  jewels  and  putting  them 
on.  She  declared  from  that  moment 
she  saw  and  knew  nothing,  and  was 
quite  bewildered.  Mr.  Drummond. 
pressed  for  departure.  She  begged  for 
one  week,  that  she  might  take  leave  of 
every  person  and  spot,  and  particularly 
of  her  mother,  of  whom  she  was  very 
fond.  She  told  me  that  she  ran  about 
from  morning  till  night  visiting  the 
poor,  to  whom,  she  said,  a  nosegay  or 
a  little  fruit  were  more  acceptable  than 
food.  And  wherever  she  lived  she  had 
a  garden  made  for  this  purpose.  She 
kept  poultry  also  for  the  same  object. 
When  the  day  for  her  departure  came, 
she  set  out  for  the  sea-coast  accom- 
panied by  her  mother,  who  consigned 
her  to  the  hands  of  the  Duchess  of 
Ancaster  and  Lady  Effingham ;  she 
spoke    of    the   agony    of    that    parting, 


262 


The  Accession  of  George  III 


even  after  so  many  years,  in  a  manner 
that  showed  what  it  must  have  been. 
Her  mother  was  in  bad  health,  but 
promised  to  come  over  in  the  Spring, 
which,  however,  she  never  lived  to  ful- 
fil. .  .  .  She  was  an  excellent  French 
scholar  ;  well  read  in  her  own  lan- 
guage ;  wrote  a  very  pretty  hand ; 
played  on  the  guitar  and  piano,  or 
rather  spinette,  having  learned  of  Bach, 
and  sung  very  sweetly  and  correctly. 
She  also  danced  a  very  fine  minuet,  the 
dance  of  the  day ;  had  a  lovely  com- 
plexion, fine  hair  and  teeth,  and  the 
neatest  little  fetite  figure,  with  a  pecu- 
liar elegance. 


7.  Extracts  from    Horace   Walpole. 

Some  coquet  attempts,  which  Lady 
Sarah  [Lennox]  afterwards  made  to 
recover  his  [George's]  notice,  and  her 
stooping  to  bear  the  Queen's  train  as 
bridemaid,  did  her  more  prejudice  than 
all  that  was  invented  against  her.  .  .  . 
In  my  opinion  the  King  had  thoughts 
of  her  as  a  wife,  but  wanted  resolution 
to  oppose  his  mother  and  Lord  Bute. 
Fortunately,  no  doubt,  in  this  instance  ; 
for  the  daughter  of  a  subject,  and  the 
sister-in-law  of  so  ambitious  and  excep- 
tionable a  man  as  Fox,  would  probably 
have  been  productive  of  most  serious 
consequences.  To  avoid  returning  to 
this  topic,  I  will  only  remember  that, 
during  the  wedding  service,  on  mention 
of  Abraham  and  Sarah,  the  King  could 
not  conceal  his  confusion.  And  the 
day  following,  when  every  body  was 
presented  to  the  Queen,  Lord  West- 
moreland, old  and  dimsighted,  seeing 
Lady  Sarah  in  the  rich  habit  of  bride- 
maid,  mistook  her  for  Queen,  and  was 
going  to  kneel  and  kiss  her  hand. 

But  while  the  arrival  of  the  Queen 
was  expected,  and  the  approaching 
ceremonies  of  the  wadding  and  corona- 
tion engrossed  the  attention  of  the  pub- 


lic, affairs  grew  towards  a  serious  crisis 
in  the  Cabinet.   .   .   . 

In  the  end  of  August,  the  council 
had  ordered  their  ultimate  concessions 
to  be  drawn  and  sent  to  France.  Mr. 
Pitt  made  the  draught  and  carried  it  to 
Council.  The  other  ministers  thought 
it  spoke  his  sense,  not  theirs  ;  or  rather, 
contained  more  of  an  ultimatum  than 
they  were  disposed  to  adhere  to.  In 
defence  of  his  own  inflexibility,  Mr. 
Pitt  spoke  largely  on  the  haughtiness  of 
France. 

Lord  Hardwicke  said  he  approved 
our  not  submitting  to  their  haughtiness, 
and  congratulated  his  country  in  not 
having  been  behind  hand  with  them  in 
that  respect.  Lord  Granville  took  the 
draught  and  applauded  it  exceedingly  ; 
said  it  deserved  to  be  inserted  in  the 
Acta  Regia ;  but  for  his  part  he  did 
not  love  fine  letters  on  business.  He 
thought  even  bad  Latin  preferable  to 
good  in  negotiations. 

These  speeches  raised  Pitt's  choler ; 
and  with  reason.  He  had  vindicated 
the  honour  of  his  country ;  and  now 
was  supporting  it  with  a  dignity  it  had 
never  known  since  the  days  of  Crom- 
well. He  saw  himself  abandoned  and 
ridiculed  by  his  master' s  ministers  ;  but 
he  was  not  a  man  to  recoil  before  such 
adversaries.  If  he  had  assumed  an 
unwarrantable  tone,  his  situation  might 
well  justify  it.  He  broke  out  with 
great  asperity,  and  told  them  dictatori- 
ally,  they  should  not  alter  an  iota  of 
the  letter.  Rhodomontade  had  been 
too  favourite  a  figure  with  Lord  Gran- 
ville to  leave  him  the  dupe  of  it  in 
another  man.  .  .  .  He  neither  admired 
Pitt's  exalted  diction,  nor  exalted 
views.   .   .   . 

The  Duke  of  Bedford,  whom  the 
rest  always  summoned  when  they 
wanted  to  combat  Pitt  and  did  not  dare, 
said,  "  he  did  not  know  why  he  was 
called  to  council,  if  he  was  not  at  lib- 


The  Accession  of  George  III. 


26 


erty  to  debate ;  and  since  he  was  told 
they  were  not  to  be  permitted  to  alter 
an  iota,  he  would  come  thither  no 
more,' '  and  retired.  Some  of  the  others 
were  less  stout.  Lord  Bute  said  little, 
but  that  he  thought  the  King's  honour 
was  concerned  in  sticking  to  our  own 
terms.  .  ;  .  On  the  25th,  another  coun- 
cil was  held,  to  which,  notwithstanding 
his  declaration,  the  Duke  of  Bedford 
returned.  .  .  .  Pitt  at  this  council  was 
more  temperate,  and  submitted  to  some 
small  concessions. 

On  the  7th  of  September,  the  new 
Queen  landed  at  Harwich.  .  .  .  Her 
temper  appeared  to  be  lively  and  her 
understanding  sensible  and  quick. 
Great  good-nature,  set  off  by  much 
grace  in  her  manner,  recommended  all 
she  said.  Her  person  was  small,  and 
very  lean,  but  well  made.  Her  face 
pale  and  homely,  her  nose  something 
flat,  her  mouth  very  large.  Her  hair 
was  of  a  fine  brown,  and  her  counten- 
ance pleasing. 

When  first  she  saw  the  palace  she 
trembled.  The  Duchess  of  Hamilton 
smiled.  The  Queen  said,  "You  may 
laugh  ;  you  have  been  married  twice  ; 
but  it  is  no  joke  to  me."  The  King 
received  her  in  the  garden  of  St. 
James's;  she  would  have  kneeled,  but 
he  raised  and  embraced  her,  and  led 
her  to  the  Princess,  where  they  and 
Lady  Augusta  dined  together.  Between 
nine  and  ten  at  night  they  went  to 
chapel.  The  Duke  of  Cumberland 
gave  her  away,  and  after  the  ceremony 
they  appeared  for  a  few  minutes  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  then  went  to  sup- 
per. She  played  and  sung,  for  music 
was  her  passion,  but  she  loved  other 
amusements  too,  and  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  them ;  but,  excepting  her 
music,  all  the  rest  were  retrenched, 
nor  was  she  ever  suffered  to  play  at 
cards,  which  she  loved.  While  she 
was  dressing,  she  was  told    the    King 


liked  some  particular  manner  of  dress. 
She  said,  "Let  him  dress  himself;  I 
shall  dress  as  I  please."  They  told  her 
he  liked  early  hours  ;  she  replied,  she 
did  not,  and  "  qu'  elle  ne  voulait  pas  se 
coucher  avec  les poules"  A  few  weeks 
taught  her  how  little  power  she  had 
acquired  with  a  Crown.  The  affection 
she  conceived  for  the  King  softened  the 
rigour  of  her  captivity.  Yet  now  and 
then  a  sigh  stole  out,  and  now  and  then 
she  attempted,  though  in  vain,  to  en- 
large her  restraint.   .   .   . 

It  was  not  without  reason  that  the 
nation  took  an  alarm,  when  almost  all 
who  conducted  our  affairs  were  deter- 
mined to  take  none.  Spain  for  some 
time  had  interposed  officiously  in  behalf 
of  France,  which,  said  the  Spaniards, 
was  sufficiently  humbled,  and  must  not 
be  ruined.  It  was  known  that  they  had 
furnished  her  with  money ;  and,  as  if 
they  sought  an  open  breach  with  us, 
they  demanded  for  all  Spain  the  same 
privilege  as  Biscay  and  two  other  prov- 
inces enjoyed,  of  fishing  on  the  coasts 
of  Newfoundland.  This  was  peremp- 
torily refused ;  and  had  Mr.  Pitt's 
influence  been  equal  to  his  spirit,  Lord 
Bristol  had  been  immediately  recalled 
from  Madrid.  .  .  .  The  King  of  Spain 
was  possessed  with  a  notion  that  his 
lights  were  equal  to  his  grandeur.  He 
listened,  or  thought  he  listened,  to  no 
advice  :  but  if  anything  is  more  fatal 
to  a  nation  than  a  foolish  indolent 
prince,  it  is  a  foolish  one  that  is  active 
and  obstinate.   .   .   . 

Mr.  Pitt  had  fixed  his  resolution.  It 
was  by  one  bold  stroke  to  assert  the 
honour  of  his  country,  or  to  quit  the 
rudder.  He  insisted  that  a  fleet  of 
twelve  or  fourteen  men-of-war  should 
be  instantly  sent  to  Cadiz ;  and  that 
Lord  Bristol  should  be  ordered  to 
demand  a  sight  of  the  treaty  between 
Spain  and  France;  and  if  not  accorded, 


264  The  Accession  of  George  III. 


to  leave  Madrid  without  delay.  When 
Spain  had  given  such  indications  of 
her  partiality  to  France,  nothing  could 
be  more  justifiable  than  this  measure. 
But  Spain  had  not  restrained  herself 
within  the  bounds  of  favour.  In  the 
midst  of  the  negotiation  between  us 
and  France,  to  which  Spain  pretended 
to  offer  herself  as  guarantee,  she  had 
committed  a  most  flagrant  and  unheard- 
of  instance  of  taking  part,  nay,  of  add- 
ing herself  as  a  party  to  the  grievances 
complained  of.  Bussy  [The  French 
envoy],  tolerated  here  as  a  negotiator, 
and  without  even  a  character  from  his 
own  court,  presented  to  Mr.  Pitt  a 
cavalier  note  in  the  name  of  Spain, 
demanding  restitution  of  some  prizes 
we  had  made  on  Spain  during  the  war, 
satisfaction  for  the  violation  of  their 
territory  by  the  navy  of  England, 
liberty  of  fishery  on  Newfoundland, 
and  destruction  of  our  settlements  on 
the  Spanish  territory,  in  the  bay  of 
Honduras.  A  power  in  amity  with  us, 
and  affecting  to  act  as  mediator,  selects 
our  enemy's  agent  to  convey  their  com- 
plaints ! — what  could  surpass  this  in- 
sult?— the  patience  of  our  ministers 
under  such  indignity — not  of  Mr.  Pitt. 
He  replied  with  the  majesty  of  the 
Crown  he  served, — the  vengeance  of 
that  Crown  slept  in  other  hands. 

His  hands  tied,  the  nation  affronted, 
and  duped  by  the  partial  breaking  off 
of  the  treaty  with  France,  no  proper 
resentment  permitted  against  Spain, 
Mr.  Pitt  found  he  could  do  no  farther 
good.  His  character  had  been  lost  by 
acquiesence ;  and  nothing  could  rouse 
the  nation,  but  his  quitting  the  sphere 
of  business,  where  he  was  so  treacher- 
ously controlled.  He  had  desired  to 
enter  his  protest  in  the  council  books 
against  the  temporising  advice  of  his 
colleagues.  He  and  Lord  Temple  de- 
livered to  the  King  their  reasons  and 
advice    for    a    war   with    Spain ;     and 


October  2nd  Mr.  Pitt  took  leave  of  the 
Council,  thanking  the  ministers  of  the 
late  King  for  the  support  they  had 
given  to  the  war ;  and  on  the  5th  he 
resigned  the  Seals.  Lord  Temple 
quitted  on  the  9th  following. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  which  exulted 
most  on  this  occasion,  France,  Spain, 
or  Lord  Bute,  for  Mr.  Pitt  was  the 
common  enemy  of  all  three.    .   .   . 

The  nation  was  thunderstruck, 
alarmed,  and  indignant.  The  City  of 
London  proposed  to  address  the  King 
to  know  why  Mr.  Pitt  was  dismissed; 
but  it  being  replied,  that  the  King 
would  tell  them  he  had  not  dismissed 
Mr.  Pitt,  but  had  wished  him  to  continue 
in  employment,  the  motion  dropped. 
Some  proposed  a  general  mourning ; 
others,  more  reasonable,  to  thank  Mr. 
Pitt  for  his  services ;  but  this  too  was 
damped;  for  the  Favourite's  agents  were 
not  idle,  and  insinuated  that  Mr.  Pitt 
had  acted  with  mischievous  views ;  for 
they  who  were  incapable  of  great  views, 
were  excellent  in  undermining.  The 
King  was  advised  to  heap  rewards  on 
his  late  minister.  The  Princess  pressed 
it  eagerly.  A  peerage,  a  vast  pension, 
the  government  of  Canada  (as  a  mark 
that  it  was  not  to  be  restored  at  the 
peace),  were  offered  to  him.  He  had 
the  frailty  to  accept  a  peerage  for  his 
wife,  and  a  pension  of  three  thousand  a 
year  for  three  lives  !   .   .   . 

The  public,  though  staggered  by  the 
pension,  did  not  abandon  their  idol. 
.  .  .  On  the  9th,  the  King  and  all  the 
royal  family  dined  in  the  city  with  the 
Lord  Mayor.  Thither,  too,  went  Mr. 
Pitt  and  Lord  Temple  in  a  chariot 
together, — a  step  justly  censured,  and 
very  nearly  productive  of  fatal  conse- 
quences. To  them  all  acclamations 
were  addressed ;  and  the  distinctions 
paid  in  the  Guildhall  to  Mr.  Pitt,  to  the 
total  neglect  of  the  King,  bestowed  all 
the  honour  of  triumph  on  the  former. 


*ber  erfl  Canfequence*  at&eWsrJL  mig-bt  reckon  our  extraordinary  SucCeii. 

/  .        \     ,  Braronrjrrw. 


d&BoiTm* of 'JFjfiofh  and  C^  t/u^Jitrutnof&JdfK  A?S$b  dne»  m/  AihdUd 'Aid / %■ 

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ac  Cl  mfyiadhf  do  J^  JEvil  Confequences  ztfiom/d  ?  ifij&t' 7£>y&r  tA%d^Aunp  upon, 
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Suyned,  TheTcaph  of  JSttgkn  d . 


The  Accession  of  George  III 


265 


Little  was  wanting  to  turn  the  pageant 
into  a  tragedy.  Riots  ensued,  and 
many  persons  were  insulted. 


8.  An  Hieroglyphical,  Enigmatical, 
and  Paradoxical  address,  to  the  Laird 
of  the  Bute  relative  to  the  Loss  ot  New- 
foundland.     (See  opposite  page  !) 

Among  the  other  evil  Consequences  of  the 
War,  I  might  reckon  our  extraordinary  Suc- 
cess.— Briton,  No.  VI. 

May  it  please  your  Lairdship  !  At  a 
time  when  the  Nation  is  again  em- 
broiled in  all  the  Horrors  of  Faction, 
and  that  the  Demon  of  Discord  has 
once  more  kindled  his  torch  to  light  up 
the  flames  of  civil  Sedition,  it  can  not 
but  give  the  greatest  Satisfaction  to  your 
Lairdship' s  Friends  in  General  that  the 
Dawn  of  your  ministerial  Conduct  has 
been  attended  with  such  happy  effects, 
•so  likely  to  put  a  speedy  End  to  the 
War. 

We  profeed  wholly  upon  the  Maxim 
adopted  by  the  Author  of  our  Motto  ;  a 
Maxim  which,  (however  paradoxical  it 
may  appear,)  can  [not?  scarcely?]  be 
enough  admired  for  its  novelty,  as  well 
as  for  the  forcible  conviction  it  carries 
along  with  it : — New  it  surely  must  be 
allowed  to  be  ;  for  who  in  the  name  of 
wonder,  would  have  dream' d,  (before 
your  Lairdship' s  Friend  the  Briton 
informed  us  so)  that  success  could  ever 
be  attended  with  Evil  Consequences,  or 
that  our  Conquests  were  to  be  consid- 
ered but  as  Obstacles  to  a  Peace? 
These  Obstacles  however  your  Laird- 
ship's  Sagacity  will  effectually  remove. 

We  had  hitherto  foolishly  imagin'd, 
that   our    numerous    Acquisitions,   the 


fruits  of  our  late  mischievous  Minister's 
officious  Zeal  for  the  public  Service, 
were  so  many  Means  of  weakening  our 
Enemies,  and  that  the  reducing  their 
Power  was  the  surest  Way  to  make 
them  submit  to  our  own  Terms  of  Ac- 
commodation.— Wretched  Mi  stake  ! 
Fatal  Error !  Was  it  for  this  We  so 
loudly  applauded  the  minister  who  was 
daily  accumulating  so  many  Evil  Con- 
sequences upon  us?  Was  it  for  this 
We  hung  upon  his  Chariot  Wheels  and 
bore  him  through  the  City  with  inces- 
sant Shouts  and  triumphant  Acclama- 
tions? For  this  did  he  receive  Ad- 
dresses from  all  the  Cities  and  Cor- 
porations of  Great  Britain,  upon  every 
new    Accession  of  Misfortune  he    en- 


tailed   u 


pon 


How  much   are    we 


indebted  to  your  Lairdship' s  judicious 
Advocate,  for  dispelling  the  mists  of 
Popular  Prejudice  by  which  we  had 
been  so  long  blinded,  and  how  greatly 
will  it  redound  to  your  glory  that  you 
have  given  us  so  much  Reason  to  rejoice 
over  the  good  Consequences  of  our 
Losses,  and  the  evil  ones  resulting  to 
our  Enemies  the  French,  fr/am  the 
important  Conquest  of  Newfoundla+rd  ! 

Suffer  not  then,  my  Laird,  the  Ignis 
Fatuus  of  Glory  to  lead  you  astray,  and 
your  Lairdship  will  soon  put  an  end  to 
the  War  :  for  if  our  Losses  are  repeated, 
in  Proportion  as  our  Conquests,  were 
acquir'd,  we  can  not- fail  of  obtaining  a 
Peace,  even  upon  the  equitable  Terms 
which  the  two  illustrious  Branches  of 
the  House  of  Bourbon  shall  think  fit  to 
prescribe. 

Signed,  The  People  of  England. 

Price  6d. 


266       William  Pitt  and  the  American  War 


GROUP  XXVIII. 


WILLIAM    PITT    AND    THE    AMERICAN    WAR    OF    INDEPENDENCE. 


I.    Extracts    from    Pitt's    Speeches. 
(In  Life  of  Pitt.      London,  1810.) 

May  27,  1774.' 
My  Lords  :  ...  If  we  take  a  tran- 
sient view  of  those  motives  which 
induced  the  ancestors  of  our  fellow- 
subjects  in  America  to  leave  their  native 
country,  to  encounter  the  innumerable 
difficulties  of  the  unexplored  regions  of 
the  western  world,  our  astonishment  at 
the  present  conduct  of  their  descendants 
will  naturally  subside.  There  was  no 
corner  of  the  world  into  which  men  of 
their  free  and  enterpi-ising  spirit  would 
not  fly  with  alaci-ity,  rather  than  submit 
to  the  slavish  and  tyrannical  principles, 
which  prevailed  at  that  period  in  their 
native  country.  And  shall  we  wonder, 
my  Lords,  if  the  descendants  of  such 
illustrious  characters  spurn,  with  con- 
tempt, the  hand  of  unconstitutional 
power,  that  would  snatch  from  them 
such  dear-bought  privileges  as  they  now 
contend  for  ?  Had  the  British  Colonies 
been  planted  by  any  other  kingdom 
than  our  own,  the  inhabitants  would 
have  carried  with  them  the  chains  of 
slavery,  and  spirit  of  despotism  ;  but  as 
they  are,  they  ought  to  be  remembered 
as  great  instances  to  instruct  the  world, 
what  great  exertions  mankind  will  nat- 
urally make,  when  they  are  left  to  the 
free  exercise  of  their  own  powers.  And, 
my  Lords,  notwithstanding  my  inten- 
tion to  give  my  hearty  negative  to  the 
question  now  before  you  [a  bill  for 
quartering  soldiers  in  America],  I  can- 
not help  condemming,  in  the  severest 
manner,  the  late  turbulent  and  unwar- 
rantable conduct  of  the  Americans  in 
some  instances,  particularly  in  the  late 
riots  of  Boston.  But,  my  Lords,  the 
mode  which  has  been  pursued  to  bring 
them  back  to  a  sense  of  their  duty  to 


their  parent  state  has  been  diametrically 
opposite  to  the  fundamental  principles 
of  sound  policy.  .  .  .  By  blocking  up 
the  harbour  of  Boston,  you  have*  in- 
volved the  innocent  trader  in  the  same 
punishment  with  the  guilty  profligates 
who  destroyed  your  merchandize ;  and 
instead  of  making  a  well-concerted 
effort  to  secure  the  real  offenders,  you 
clap  a  military  and  naval  extinguisher 
over  their  harbour.    .    .    . 

My  Lords,  this  country  is  little 
obliged  to  the  framers  and  promoters 
of  this  tea-tax.  The  Americans  had 
almost  forgot,  in  their  excess  of  grati- 
tude for  the  repeal  of  the  stamp  act, 
any  interest  but  that  of  the  mother 
country ;  there  seemed  an  emulation 
among  the  different  provinces,  who- 
should  be  most  dutiful  and  forward  in 
their  expressions  of  loyalty.  .  .  .  But 
the  moment  they  perceived  your  inten- 
tion was  renewed  to  tax  them,  under  a 
pretence  of  serving  the  East  India  Com- 
pany, their  resentment  got  the  ascend- 
ant of  their  moderation,  and  hurried 
them  into  actions  contrary  to  law, 
which,  in  their  cooler  hours,  they  would 
have  thought  on  with  horror ;  for  I 
sincerely  believe,  the  destroying  of  the 
tea  was  the  effect  of  despair. 

But  my  Lords,  from  the  complexion 
of  the  whole  of  the  proceedings,  I  think 
that  administration  has  purposely  irri- 
tated them  into  those  violent  acts,  for 
which  they  now  so  severely  smart ; 
purposely  to  be  revenged  on  them  for 
the  victory  they  gained  by  the  repeal  of 
the  stamp  act.  .  .  .  For  what  other 
motive  could  induce  them  to  dress  tax- 
ation, that  father  of  American  sedition, 
in  the  robes  of  an  East  India  Director, 
but  to  break  in  upon  that  mutual  peace 
and  harmony.    .   .   . 


William  Pitt  and  the  American  War       267 


My  Lords,  I  am  an  old  man,  and 
would  advise  the  noble  Lords  in  office 
to  adopt  a  more  gentle  mode  of  govern- 
ing America ;  for  the  day  is  not  far 
distant,  when  America  may  vie  with 
these  kingdoms,  not  only  in  arms,  but 
in  arts  also.  It  is  an  established  fact, 
that  the  principal  towns  in  America  are 
learned  and  polite,  and  understand  the 
constitution  of  the  empire  as  well  as  the 
noble  Lords  who  are  now  in  office ; 
and  consequently  they  will  have  a 
watchful  eye  over  their  liberties,  to 
prevent  the  least  encroachment  on  their 
hereditary  rights.   .    .   . 

This,  my  Lords,  though  no  new 
doctrine,  has  always  been  my  received 
and  unalterable  opinion,  and  I  will 
carry  it  to  my  grave,  that  this  country 
had  no  right  under  heaven  to  tax 
America.  It  is  contrary  to  all  the  prin- 
ciples of  justice  and  civil  policy.  .  .  . 
Such  proceedings  will  never  meet  their 
wished-for  success ;  and,  instead  of 
adding  to  their  miseries,  as  the  bill  now 
before  you  most  undoubtedly  does, 
adopt  some  lenient  measures,  which 
may  lure  them  to  their  duty ;  proceed 
like  a  kind  and  affectionate  parent  over 
a  child  whom  he  tenderly  loves ;  and, 
instead  of  those  harsh  and  severe  pro- 
ceedings pass  an  amnesty  on  all  their 
youthful  errors ;  clasp  them  once  more 
in  your  fond  and  affectionate  arms  ;  and 
I  will  venture  to  affirm  you  will  find 
them  children  worthy  of  their  sire.  .  .  . 
Nov.  29,  1774. 

I  wish,  my  Lords,  not  to  lose  a  day 
in  this  urgent,  pressing  crisis  ;  an  hour 
now  lost  in  allaying  ferments  in  Amer- 
ica, may  produce  years  of  calamity  :  for 
my  own  part,  I  will  not  desert,  for  a 
moment,  the  conduct  of  this  weighty 
business,  from  the  first  to  the  last;  un- 
less nailed  to  my  bed  by  the  extremity 
of  sickness,  I  will  give  it  unremitted 
attention ;  I  will  knock  at  the  door  of 
this  sleeping  and  confounded  Ministry, 


and  will  rouse  them  to  a  sense  of  their 
important  danger.   .   .   . 

I  contend  not  for  indulgence,  but 
justice  to  America ;  and  I  shall  ever 
contend,  that  the  Americans  justly  owe 
obedience  to  us  in  a  limited  degree,  .  ,  . 
but  let  the  line  be  skillfully  drawn.  .  .  . 
Let  the  sacredness  of  their  property  re- 
main inviolate  ;  let  it  be  taxable  only 
by  their  own  consent,  given  in  their 
provincial  assemblies,  else  it  will  cease 
to  be  property.   .   .    . 

Adopt,  then,  the  grace,  while  you 
have  the  opportunity  of  reconcilement ; 
or  at  least  prepare  the  way. — Allay  the 
ferment  prevailing  in  America,  by  re- 
moving the  obnoxious  hostile  cause  [the 
troops] — obnoxious  and  unserviceable  ; 
for  their  merit  can  be  only  inaction : 
"  Non  dimicare  et  vincere,"  their  vic- 
tory can  never  be  by  exertions.  Their 
force  would  be  most  disproportionately 
exerted  against  a  brave,  generous,  and 
united  people,  with  arms  in  their  hands, 
and  courage  in  their  hearts : — three 
millions  of  people,  the  genuine  descend- 
ants of  a  valiant  and  pious  ancestry, 
driven  to  those  deserts  [  ? J  by  the  narrow 
maxims  of  a  superstitious  tyranny. — 
And  is  the  spirit  of  persecution  never 
to  be  appeased?  Are  the  brave  sons 
of  those  brave  forefathers  to  inherit 
their  sufferings,  as  they  have  inherited 
their  virtues?  Are  they  to  sustain  the 
affliction  of  the  most  oppressive  and  un- 
exampled severity,  beyond  the  accounts 
of  history,  or  description  of  poetry  ? 
.  .  .  I  remember  some  years  ago,  when 
the  repeal  of  the  stamp  act  was  in  agi- 
tation, conversing  in  a  friendly  confi-* 
dence  with  a  person  of  undoubted  re- 
spect and  authenticity  [Franklin]  .  .  . 
and  he  assured  me :  .  .  .  That  you 
might  destroy  their  towns,  and  cut 
them  off  from  the  superfluities,  perhaps 
the  conveniences  of  life ;  but  that  they 
were  prepared  to  despise  your  power, 
and  would  not  lament  their  loss,  whilst 


268        William  Pitt  and  the  American  War 


they  have — what,  my  Lords? — their 
woods  and  their  liberty.  .  .  .  The 
spirit  which  now  resists  your  taxation 
in  America,  is  the  same  which  formerly 
opposed  loans,  benevolences,  and  ship- 
money,  in  England  :  the  same  spirit 
which  called  all  England  on  its  legs, 
and  by  the  Bill  of  Rights  vindicated 
the  English  constitution :  the  same 
spirit  which  established  the  great  fun- 
damental, essential  maxim  of  your  lib- 
erties, that  no  subject  of  England 
shall  be  taxed  but  by  his  own  consent. 

This  glorious  spirit  of  Whiggism  ani- 
mates three  millions  in  America  ;  who 
prefer  poverty  with  liberty,  to  gilded 
chains  and  sordid  affluence ;  and  who 
will  die  in  defence  of  their  rights  as 
men,  as  freemen.  .  .  .  As  an  Ameri- 
can I  would  recognize  to  England  her 
supreme  right  of  regulating  commerce 
and  navigation  :  as  an  Englishman  by 
birth  and  principle,  I  would  recognize 
to  the  Americans  their  supreme  unalien- 
able right  in  their  property ;  a  right 
which  they  are  justified  in  the  defence 
of  to  the  last  extremity.  To  maintain 
this  principle  is  the  common  cause  of 
the  Whigs  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  and  on  this.  "  '  Tis  liberty 
to  liberty  engaged,"  that  they  will  de- 
fend themselves,  their  families,  and 
their  country.  In  this  great  cause  they 
are  immoveably  allied  :  it  is  the  alliance 
of  God  and  nature — immutable,  eternal 
— fixed  as  the  firmament  of  heaven.  .  .  . 

When  your  Lordships  look  at  the 
papers  transmitted  us  from  America ; 
when  you  consider  their  decency,  firm- 
ness, and  wisdom,  you  cannot  but 
respect  their  cause,  and  wish  to  make 
it  your  own.  For  myself,  I  must 
declare  and  avow,  that  in  all  my  read- 
ing and  observation — and  it  has  been 
my  favourite  study — I  have  read  Thu- 
cidydes,  and  have  studied  and  admired 
the  master-states  of  the  world — that  for 
solidity  of  reasoning,  force  of  sagacity, 


and  wisdom  of  conclusion,  under  such 
a  complication  of  difficult  circum- 
stances, no  nation,  or  body  of  men, 
can  stand  in  preference  to  the  general 
Congress  at  Philadelphia.  I  trust  it  is 
obvious  to  your  Lordships,  that  all 
attempts  to  impose  servitude  upon  such 
men,  to  establish  despotism  over  such  a 
mighty  continental  nation,  must  be  vain, 
must  be  fatal.  We  shall  be  forced 
ultimately  to  retract;  let  us  retract 
while  we  can,  not  when  we  must.  I 
say  we  must  necessarily  undo  these 
violent  oppressive  acts  :  they  must  be 
repealed — you  zvill  repeal  them ;  I 
pledge  myself  for  it,  that  you  will  in 
the  end  repeal  them;  I  stake  my 
reputation  on  it : — I  will  consent  to 
be  taken  for  an  idiot,  if  they  arc  not 
finally  repealed.    .   .   . 

May  r3»  1777-  ( 
...  If  an  end  is  not  put  to  this 
war,  there  is  an  end  to  this  country.  I 
do  not  trust  my  judgment  in  my  pres- 
ent state  of  health ;  this  is  the  judg- 
ment of  my  better  days ;  the  result  of 
forty  years  attention  to  America.  They 
are  rebels :  but  what  are  they  rebels 
for?  Surely  not  for  defending  their 
unquestionable  rights !  .  .  .  America 
has  carried  you  through  former  wars, 
and  will  now  carry  you  to  your  death, 
if  you  don't  take  things  in  time.  .  .  . 
You  have  been  three  yeais  teaching 
them  the  art  of  war.  They  are  apt 
scholars,  and  I  will  venture  to  tell  your 
Lordships,  that  the  American  gentry 
will  make  officers  enough  fit  to  com- 
mand the  troops  of  all  the  European 
powers.  .  .  .  You  have  said,  lay  down 
your  arms,  and  she  has  given  you  the 
Spartan  answer,  "  Come  take." 

2.  Speech  from  the  throne  of  George 
III.,  Nov.  18,  1777-  (In  Thackeray's 
Life  of  Pitt,  Vol.  II.  p.  322.) 

It  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  that  I 
can  have  recourse  to  the  wisdom  and 


William  Pitt  and  the  American  War       269 


support  of  my  parliament  in  this  con- 
juncture, when  the  continuance  of  the 
rebellion  in  North  America  demands 
our  most  serious  attention.  The  pow- 
ers you  have  entrusted  me  with,  for  the 
suppression  of  this  revolt,  have  been 
faithfully  exerted.  .  .  .  I  am  persuaded 
you  will  see  the  necessity  of  preparing 
for  such  further  operations  as  the  con- 
tingencies of  the  war,  and  the  obsti- 
nacy of  the  rebels  may  render  expedient. 
.  .  .  And  I  still  hope,  that  the  deluded 
and  unhappy  niultitude  will  return  to 
their  allegiance ;  and  that  the  remem- 
brance of  what  they  once  enjoyed,  the 
regret  for  what  they  have  lost,  and  the 
feelings  of  what  they  now  suffer  under 
the  arbitrary  tyranny  of  their  leaders, 
will  rekindle  in  their  hearts  a  spirit  of 
loyalty  to  their  Sovereign,  and  of  at- 
tachment to  their  mother-country  ;  and 
that  they  will  enable  me,  with  the  con- 
currence and  support  of  my  Parliament, 
to  accomplish  what  I  shall  consider  as 
the  greatest  happiness  of  my  life,  and 
the  greatest  glory  of  my  reign,  the 
restoration  of  peace,  order,  and  confi- 
dence to  my  American  Colonies. 


3.  Speech  of  Lord  Chatham  on  the 
subject  of  an  address  in  answer  to  the 
Speech  from  the  Throne. 

I  rise,  my  Lords,  to  declare  my  senti- 
ments on  this  most  solemn  and  serious 
subject.  ...  I  will  not  join  in  con- 
gratulation on  misfortune  and  disgrace  : 
I  cannot  concur  in  a  blind  and  servile 
address,  which  approves,  and  endeavors 
to  sanctify,  the  monstrous  measures 
that  have  heaped  disgrace  and  misfor- 
tune upon  us — that  have  brought  ruin 
to  our  doors.  This,  my  Lords,  is  a 
perilous  and  tremendous  moment !  It 
is  no  time  for  adulation.  The  smooth- 
ness of  flattery  cannot  now  avail — can- 
not save  us  iVi  this  rugged  and  awful 
crisis.  It  is  now  necessary  to  instruct 
the  Throne   in  the  language  of  truth. 


We  must  dispel  the  delusion  and  dark- 
ness that  envelope  it ;  and  display,  in 
its  full  danger  and  true  colors,  the 
ruin  that  is  brought  to  our  doors.  .  .  . 
But  yesterday,  and  England  might 
have  stood  against  the  world:  now 
none  so  poor  to  do  her  reverence.  I  use 
the  words  of  a  poet ;  but  though  it  be 
poetry,  it  is  no  fiction.  It  is  a  shame- 
ful truth,  that  not  only  the  power  and 
strength  of  this  country  are  wasting 
away  and  expiring ;  but  her  well- 
earned  glories,  her  true  honor,  and  sub- 
stantial dignity,  are  sacrificed.  France, 
my  Lords,  has  insulted  you ;  she  has 
encouraged  and  sustained  America ; 
and  whether  America  be  wrong  or 
right,  the  dignity  of  this  country  ought 
to  spurn  at  the  officious  insult  of  French 
interference.  The  ministers  and  am- 
bassadors of  those  who  are  called  rebels 
and  enemies  are  in  Paris  ;  in  Paris  they 
transact  the  reciprocal  interests  of 
America  and  France.  Can  there  be  a 
more  mortifying  insult?  Can  even  our 
ministers  sustain  a  more  humiliating 
disgrace?  .   .   . 

My  Lords,  this  ruinous  and  ignomin- 
ious situation,  where  we  cannot  act 
with  success,  nor  suffer  with  honor, 
calls  upon  us  to  remonstrate  in  the 
strongest  and  loudest  language  of  truth, 
to  rescue  the  ear  of  Majesty  from  the 
delusions  which  surround  it.  The  des- 
perate state  of  our  arms  abroad  is  in 
part  known :  no  man  thinks  more 
highly  of  them  than  I  do :  I  love  and 
honor  the  English  troops  :  I  know  their 
virtues  and  their  valor :  I  know  they 
can  achieve  anything  except  impossi- 
bilities ;  and  I  know  that  the  conquest 
of  English  America  is  an  impossibility. 
You  cannot*  I  venture  to  say,  you 
cannot  conquer  America.  Your 
armies  last  war  effected  everything  that 
could  be  effected ;  and  what  was  it  ? 
It  cost  a  numerous  army,  under  the 
command    of     a    most     able     general 


270       William  Pitt  and  the  American  War 


(Amherst),  now  a  noble  Lord  in  this 
house,  a  long  and  laborious  campaign, 
to  expel  five  thousand  Frenchmen  from 
French  America.  My  Lords,  you  can- 
not conquer  America.  What  is  your 
present  situation  there?  We  do  not 
know  the  worst ;  but  we  know,  that 
in  three  campaigns  we  have  done  noth- 
ing, and  suffered  much.  Besides  the 
sufferings,  perhaps  total  loss,  of  the 
Northern  force  (Burgoyne's  army), 
the  best  appointed  army  that  ever  took 
the  field  commanded  by  Sir  William 
Howe,  has  retired  from  the  American 
lines  ;  he  was  obliged  to  relinquish  his 
attempt,  and,  with  great  delay  and 
danger,  to  adopt  a  new  and  distant 
plan  of  operations.  We  shall  soon 
know,  and  in  any  event  have  reason  to 
lament,  what  may  have  happened  since. 
As  to  conquest,  therefore,  my  Lords,  I 
repeat,  it  is  impossible. — You  may 
swell  every  expence,  and  every  effort, 
still  more  extravagantly ;  pile  and  accu- 
mulate every  assistance  you  can  buy  or 
borrow ;  traffic  and  barter  with  every 
little  pitiful  German  Prince,  that  sells 
and  sends  his  subjects  to  the  shambles 
of  a  foreign  Prince ;  your  efforts  are 
forever  vain  and  impotent — doubly  so 
from  this  mercenary  aid  on  which  you 
rely ;  for  it  irritates  to  an  incurable 
resentment,  the  minds  of  your  enemies 
— to  overrun  them  with  the  mercenary 
sons  of  rapine  and  plunder ;  devoting 
them  and  their  possessions  to  the  rapac- 
ity of  hireling  cruelty  !  If  I  were  an 
American,  as  I  am  an  Englishman, 
while  a  foreign  troop  was  landed  in  my 
tountry,  I  never  would  lay  down  my 
arms — never — never — never.   .   .   . 

But,  my  Lords,  who  is  the  man  that, 
in  addition  to  these  disgraces  and  mis- 
chiefs of  our  army,  has  dared  to  au- 
thorize and  associate  to  our  arms  the 
tomahawk  and  scalping-knife  of  the 
savage?  To  call  into  civilized  alliance 
the  wild    and    inhuman  savage    of  the 


woods ;  to  delegate  to  the  merciless 
Indian  the  defence  of  disputed  rights, 
and  to  wage  the  horrors  of  his  barbar- 
ous war  against  our  brethren?  My 
Lords,  these  enormities  cry  aloud  for 
redress  and  punishment :  unless  thor- 
oughly done  away,  it  will  be  a  stain  on 
the  national  character — it  is  a  violation 
of  the  constitution — I  believe  it  is 
against  law.  It  is  not  the  least  of  our 
national  misfortunes,  that  the  strength 
and  character  of  our  armies  are  thus 
impaired  :  infected  with  the  mercenary 
spirit  of  robbery  and  rapine — familiar- 
ized to  the  horrid  scenes  of  savage 
cruelty,  it  can  no  longer  boast  of  the 
noble  and  generous  principles  which 
dignify  a  soldier  ;  no  longer  sympathize 
with  the  dignity  of  the  royal  banner, 
nor  feel  the  pride,  pomp,  and  circum- 
stance of  glorious  war,  "that  make 
ambition  virtue!"  What  makes  am- 
bition virtue  ? — the  sense  of  honor.  .  .  . 
In  a  just  and  necessary  war,  to  main- 
tain the  rights  or  honor  of  my  country, 
I  would  strip  the  shirt  from  my  back  to 
support  it.  But  in  such  a  war  as  this, 
unjust  in  its  principle,  impracticable  in 
its  means,  and  ruinous  in  its  conse- 
quences, I  would  not  contribute  a  single 
effort,  nor  a  single  shilling.    .   .   . 

Lord  Suffolk  {defending  the  employ- 
7nent  of  the  Indians  in  the  war  and 
contending,  that,  besides  its  policy 
and  necessity  it  was  allowable  also  on 
principle)  :  "it  is  perfectly  justifiable 
to  use  all  the  means  that  God  and 
Nature  put  into  our  hands."  Pitt 
{suddenly  rising)  :  "  I  am  astonished, 
shocked  !  to  hear  such  principles  con- 
fessed— to  hear  them  avowed  in  this 
House,  or  in  this  country  : — principles 
equally  unconstitutional,  inhuman  and 
unchristian  !  My  Lords,  I  did  not  in- 
tend to  have  encroached  again  upon 
your  attention ;  but  I  cannot  repress 
my  indignation — I  feel  myself  impelled 
by    every    duty.      My    Lords,    we    are 


William  Pitt  and  the  American  War       271 


called  upon  as  members  of  this  house, 
as  men,  as  Christian  men,  to  protest 
against  such  notions  standing  near  the 
throne,  polluting  the  ear  of  Majesty. 
*'  That  God  and  Nature  put  into  our 
hands!"  I  know  not  what  ideas  that 
Lord  may  entertain  of  God  and  nature  ; 
but  I  know,  that  such  abominable  prin- 
ciples are  equally  abhorrent  to  religion 
and  humanity. — What !  to  attribute  the 
sacred  sanction  of  God  and  nature  to  the 
massacres  of  the  Indian  scalping  knife 
— to  the  cannibal  savage  torturing, 
murdering,  roasting  and  eating ;  liter- 
ally, my  Lords,  eating  the  mangled 
victims  of  his  barbarous  battles.  Such 
horrible  notions  shock  every  precept  of 
religion,  divine  or  natural,  and  every 
generous  feeling  of  humanity.  And,  my 
Lords,  they  shock  every  sentiment  of 
honor ;  they  shock  me  as  a  lover  of 
honorable  war,  and  a  detester  of  mur- 
derous barbarity.  .  .  .  From  the  tapes- 
try that  adorns  these  walls,  the  immortal 
ancestor  [Admiral  Howard]  of  this 
noble  Lord  [Suffolk]  frowns  with  in- 
dignation at  the  disgrace  of  his  country. 
In  vain  he  led  your  victorious  fleets 
against  the  boasted  Armada  of  Spain  ; 
in  vain  he  defended  and  established  the 
honor,  the  liberties,  the  religion,  the 
Protestant  religion,  of  this  country, 
against  the  arbitrary  cruelties  of  Popery 
and  the  Inquisition,  if  these  more  than 
popish  cruelties  and  inquisitorial  prac- 
tices ai*e  let  loose  among  us  ;  to  turn 
forth  into  our  settlements,  among  our 
ancient  connexions,  friends  and  rela- 
tions, the  merciless  cannibal,  thirsting 
for  the  blood  of  man,  woman  and  child  ! 
to  send  forth  the  infidel  savage — against 
whom?  against  your  Protestant  breth- 
ren ;  to  lay  waste  their  country,  to 
desolate  their  dwellings,  and  extirpate 
their  race  and  name,  with  these  hor- 
rible hell-hounds  of  savage  war ! — 
hell-hounds,  I  say,  of  savage  wart 
Spain  armed  herself  with  blood-hounds 


to  extirpate  the  wretched  natives  of 
America ;  and  we  improve  on  the 
inhuman  example  even  of  Spanish 
cruelty ;  we  turn  loose  these  savage 
hell-hounds  against  our  brethren  and 
countrymen  in  America,  of  the  same 
language,  laws,  liberties  and  religion ; 
endeared  to  us  by  every  tie  that  should 
sanctify  humanity.  .  .  .  Iagainimplore 
these  holy  prelates  of  our  religion,  to 
do  away  with  these  iniquities  from 
among  us.  Let  them  perform  a  lustra- 
tion ;  let  them  purify  this  House  and 
this  country  from  this  sin.  My  Lords, 
I  am  old  and  weak  and  at  present 
unable  to  say  more ;  but  my  feelings 
and  indignation  were  too  strong  to  have 
said  less.  I  could  not  have  slept  this 
night  in  my  bed,  nor  reposed  my  head 
on  my  pillow,  without  giving  this  vent 
to  my  eternal  abhorrence  of  such  pre- 
posterous and  enormous  principles." 

(Pitts  amendment  was  rejected  by  a 
large  majority.) 

Extract  from  Seward'' s  Anecdotes. 
(Vol.  II.  p.  383.      London,    1804.) 

Lord  Chatham  came  into  the  House 
of  Lords,  leaning  upon  two  friends, 
lapped  up  in  flannel,  pale  and  ema- 
ciated. Within  his  large  wig  little 
more  was  to  be  seen  than  his  aquiline 
nose  and  his  penetrating  eye.  He 
looked  like  a  dying  man ;  yet  never 
was  seen  a  figure  of  more  dignity  :  he 
appeared  like  a  being  of  a  superior 
species.  He  rose  from  his  feet  with 
slowness  and  difficulty,  leaning  on  his 
crutches  and  supported  under  each  arm 
by  his  two  friends.  He  took  one  hand 
from  his  crutch  and  raised  it,  casting 
his  eyes  towards  Heaven,  and  said,  "  I 
thank  God  that  I  have  been  enabled  to 
come  here  this  day — to  perform  my 
duty  and  to  speak  on  a  subject  which 
has  so  deeply  impressed  my  mind.  I 
am  old  and  infirm — have  one  foot, 
more  than  one  foot  in  the  grave — I  am 


272       William  Pitt  and  the  American  War 


risen  from  my  bed,  to  stand  up  in  the 
cause  of  my  country — perhaps  never 
again  to  speak  in  this  house  " — a  proph- 
ecy too  fatally  fulfilled  ! 

The  purport  of  his  speech  is  well- 
known.  The  reverence — the  attention 
— the  stillness  of  the  House  was  most 
affecting :  if  any  one  had  dropped  an 
handkerchief,  the  noise  would  have 
been  heard. 

At  first  he  spoke  in  a  very  low  and 
feeble  tone;  but  as  he  grew  warm,  his 
voice  rose,  and  was  as  harmonious  as 
ever :  oratorical  and  affecting,  perhaps 
more  than  at  any  former  period ;  both 
from  his  own  situation  and  from  the 
importance  of  the  subject  on  which  he 
spoke.  He  gave  the  whole  history  of 
the  American  War  ;  of  all  the  measures 
to  which  he  had  objected;  and  all  the 
evils  which  he  had  prophecied  in  con- 
sequence of  them  ;  adding  at  the  end  of 
each,   "  and  so  it  proved  !  " 

In  one  part  of  his  speech  he  ridiculed 
the  apprehension  of  an  invasion,  and 
then  recalled  the  remembrance  of  for- 
mer invasions.  "  Of  a  Spanish  inva- 
sion, of  a  French  invasion,  of  a  Dutch 
invasion,  many  noble  Lords  may  have 
read  in  history ;  and  some  Lords  (look- 
ing keenly  at  one  who    sat  near  him) 


may,  perhaps,  remember  a  Scotch  in- 
vasion." 

While  the  Duke  of  Richmond  was 
speaking  he  looked  at  him  with  atten- 
tion and  composure  ;  but  when  he  rose 
up  to  answer,  his  strength  failed  him 
and  he  fell  backwards.  He  was 
instantly  supported  by  those  who  were 
near  him,  and  every  one  pressed  round 
him  with  anxious  solicitude.  His 
youngest  son,  the  Honorable  James 
Pitt  (since  dead),  was  particularly 
anxious  and  clever  in  assisting  his  ven- 
erable father,  though  the  youth  was  not 
more  than  17  or  18  years  of  age. 

Lord  Chatham  was  carried  to  Mr. 
Sergent's  house,  in  Downing-Street, 
where  he  was  accommodated  with 
every  kind  and  friendly  attention,  both 
at  this  time  and  on  a  preceding  day, 
when  he  had  attended  the  House  of 
Lords,  some  weeks  before.  From 
thence  he  was  carried  home  to  Hayes, 
and  put  to  bed.  He  never  rose  again  ! 
Therefore  his  death  may  be  properly 
said  to  have  happened  in  the  House  of 
Lords,  in  the  discharge  of  his  great  po- 
litical duty  :  a  duty,  which  he  came  in 
a  dying  state,  to  perform  ! 

Such  was  the  glorious  end  of  this- 
Great  Man  ! 


GROUP  XXIX. 


GEORGE    III.    AND    HIS    HEIR    APPARENT. 


i .  Extract  from  the  Memoirs  of  Vis- 
count Melbourne.  (Edited  by  Mc- 
Cullagh  Torrens.     Vol.  I.  p.  156.) 

Lord  Essex  used  to  tell  how  George 
III,  about  to  mount  his  horse  for  a 
morning  ride,  noticed  that  the  heir 
apparent,  whom  he  desired  to  accom- 
pany him  and  who  stood  uncovered  by  his 
side,  wore  a  wig,  and  he  asked  sharply 
why  he  did  so ;  the  Prince  replied 
"that  he  found  himself  subject  to 
take  cold,   and  that  he  had    been    ad- 


vised by  his  physician  to  take  this  pre- 
caution." His  Majesty  turned  to  the 
lord-in-waiting  and  said,  "A  lie  ever 
ready  when  it's  wanted."    .    .   . 

When  Regent  he  [George  IV]  once 
called  on  Lady  Spencer  to  ask  her  to 
do  him  a  great  service.  He  wished  her 
to  choose  a  person  of  attainments  and 
accomplishments  to  be  governess  to  the 
Princess  Charlotte.  Above  all  things, 
he  desired  that  the  lady  should  teach 
his  daughter  always  to  tell  the   truth. 


George  III.  and  his  Heir  Apparent      273 


Lady  Spencer  betrayed  by  the  expres- 
sion of  her  features  what  was  passing 
in  her  mind.  On  which  his  Royal 
Highness  observed,  "  You  know  I 
don't  speak  the  truth,  and  my  brothers 
don't,  and  I  find  it  a  great  defect,  from 
which  I  would  have  my  daughter  free. 
We  have  always  been  brought  up  badly, 
the  Queen  having  taught  us  to  equivo- 
cate ;  and  I  want  you  to  help  me  in  the 
matter." 

Letter  of  Major-  General  Gren- 
ville  to  Earl  Cornwallis.  (Cornwal- 
lis  Correspondence.  London,  •  1859. 
Vol.  I.  p.  348.) 

Dec.  20,  1787. 

We    are   totally    guided    by [the 

Prince  of  Wales],  and  thoroughly  initi- 
ated into  all  the  extravagancies  and  de- 
baucheries of  this  most  virtuous  me- 
tropolis. Our  visits  to  Windsor  are  less 
frequent,  and  I  am  afraid  will  at  last  be 
totally  given  up  ...  I  flatter  myself 
still  .  .  .  [that]  we  shall  perceive  before 
.  it  is  too  late,  that  we  are  losing  our- 
selves in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  and 
throwing  away  the  finest  game  that  ever 
man  had  presented  to  him. 

Extract  from  Mrs.  Papendiefc  s 
Journals.  (London,  1887.  Vol.  I. 
p.  256.) 

1781. 

...  At  the  end  of  this  session,  the 
Prince  of  Wales  solicited  that  the  sum 
stipulated  for  the  repairs  of  Carlton 
House  should  be  paid  to  him,  and  the 
answer  was  that  it  was  ready  and  would 
be  given  to  the  commissioners,  on  prov- 
ing their  accounts.  This  his  Royal 
Highness  would  not  listen  to ;  it  was 
represented  that  the  screen  alone  had 
cost  more  than  the  Crown  had  allowed 
for  the  whole,  and  he  wished  to  have 
the  disposal  of  any  money  he  could  lay 
his  hands  on.  ...  Of  these  and  many 
other  extravagances,  was  the  King 
aware,  and  as  the  Crown  would  not 
pay  his  debts,  the  Prince  threw  up  his 


establishment,  declared  himself  a  bank- 
rupt, and  all  the  appointments  null  and 
void.  [His  debts,  a  little  later, 
amounted  to  more  than  600,000/. — Ed.] 

General  Grant  to  Earl  Cornwallis. 
(Cornwallis  Correspondence.    London, 

iS590 

April  6,  1788. 

...  At  the  Irish  Club  we  have  been 
honoured  with  the  presence  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales  and  Duke  of  York, 
who  are  reciprocally  obliged  to  one 
another ;  the  Prince  has  taught  the 
Duke  to  drink  in  the  most  liberal  and 
copious  way,  and  the  Duke  in  return 
has  been  equally  successful  in  teaching 
his  brother  to  lose  his  money  at  all 
sorts  of  play — Quinze,  Hazard,  etc. 
.  .  .  These  play  parties  have  chiefly 
taken  place  at  a  new  Club,  formed  this 
winter  by  the  Prince  of  Wales  in  oppo- 
sition to  Brookes' s,  because  Tarleton 
and  Jack  Payne,  proposed  by  his  Royal 
Highness,  were  black-balled.  The 
Club  by  way  of  distinction,  as  there 
are  so  many  of  them  in  St.  James's 
Street,  passes  under  the  name  of  the 
Dover  House. 

Letter  of  the  Duke  of  Dorset  to 
Mr.  Eden  (Auckland  Correspond- 
ence 1,393),  Oct.  6,  1786. 

...  I  never  saw  the  King  in  such 
spirits, — they  rise  in  proportion  to  the 
stocks,  which  are  beyond  the  sanguine 
expectations  of  everybody.  The  Heir 
apparent  is  still  at  Brighton  and  drives 
the  whole  world  away. 

Mr.  Storer  to  Mr.  Eden. 

Jan.  18,  1788. 
.  .  .  The  King  walks  twelve  miles 
in  his  way  from  Windsor  to  London, 
which  is  more  than  the  Prince  of 
Wales  can  do  a  V  heure  qu'il  est.  So 
there  is  but  little  chance  for  the  X's. 
Adieu. 

Nov.  14,  1788. 
Dear  Eden :   All  sorts  of    news   are 
drowned    in    the    great    event    of    the 


274      George  III.  and  his   Heir  Apparent 


King's  illness.  .  .  .  Every  day  seems 
to  produce  worse  symptoms,  both  of 
his  life  and  his  reason ;  and  it  seems 
among  the  physicians  a  general  opinion, 
that  if  the  King  does  not  die,  there  is 
very  little  probability  of  his  recovering 
his  senses.  It  is  reported,  but  how  far 
that  report  is  to  be  depended  on  I  can 
not  tell,  that  ministers  will  endeavour 
to  appoint  a  Regency,  the  Prince,  of 
course,  to  be  Regent,  but  that  he  is  to 
be  saddled  with  a  Council.   .   .   . 


2.  Extracts  from  the  Diary  of 
Madame  d'Arblay.  (London,  1842, 
Vol.  IV.  p.  273.) 

Saturday,  Oct.  25 — Nov.  1. 

I  had  a  sort  of  conference  with  his 
Majesty,  or  rather  I  was  the  object  to 
whom  he  spoke,  with  a  manner  so 
uncommon,  that  a  high  fever  alone 
could  account  for  it ;  a  rapidity,  a 
hoarseness  of  voice,  a  volubility,  an 
earnestness — a  vehemence,  rather — it 
startled  me  inexpressibly.  .  .  .  The 
Queen  is  evidently  in  great  uneasiness. 
.  .  .  During  the  reading  this  morning, 
twice,  at  pathetic  passages,  my  poor 
Queen  shed  tears.  "How  nervous  I 
am  !  "  she  cried  ;  "I  am  quite  a  fool ! 
Don't  you  think  so? "  "  No,  ma'am  !  " 
was  all  that  I  dared  answer.   .   .   . 

Nov.  5th. 

O  dreadful  day  !  My  very  heart  has 
so  sickened  in  looking  over  my  memo- 
randums, that  I  was  forced  to  go  to 
other  employment.  I  will  not,  how- 
ever, omit  its  narration.   .   .   . 

O  my  dear,  friends,  what  a  history ! 
The  King  at  dinner,  had  broken  forth 
into  positive  delirium,  which  long  had 
been  menacing  all  who  saw  him  most 
closely ;  and  the  Queen  was  so  over- 
powered as  to  fall  into  violent  hysterics. 
All  the  Princesses  were  in  misery,  and 
the  Prince  of  Wales  had  burst  into 
tears.  No  one  knew  what  was  to 
follow.   .   .   . 


At  length  news  was  brought  that  Dr. 
Warren  was  arrived.  I  never  felt  so 
rejoiced ;  I  could  have  run  out  to  wel- 
come him  with  rapture.  .  .  .  We  now 
expected  every  moment  Dr.  Warren 
would  bring  her  Majesty  his  opinion ; 
but  he  neither  came  nor  sent.  She 
sent  for  Sir  George  [Baker] — he  would 
not  speak  alone.  .  .  .  At  length  Lady 
Elizabeth  learnt  among  the  pages  that 
Dr.  Warren  had  quitted  his  post  of 
watching.  The  poor  Queen  now,  in  a 
torrent  of  tears,  prepared  herself  for 
seeing  him. 

He  came  not. 

All  astonished  and  impatient,  Lady 
Elizabeth  was  sent  out  on  enquiries. 
She  returned,  and  said  Dr.  Warren 
was  gone.  "  Run,  stop  him  !  "  was 
the  Queen' s  next  order.  .  .  .  Dr.  War- 
ren, with  the  other  two  physicians,  had 
left  the  house  too  far  to  be  recalled  ; 
they  weie  gone  over  to  the  Castle,  to 
the  Prince  of  Wales. 

I  think  a  deeper  blow  I  have  never 
witnessed.  Already  to  become  but 
second,  even  for  the  King  !  The  tears 
were  now  wiped ;  indignation  arose, 
with  pain.   .   .   . 

Nov.  7. 

.  .  .  While  I  was  yet  with  my  poor 
Royal  Sufferer  this  morning  the  Prince 
of  Wales  came  hastily  into  the  room. 
He  apologised  for  his  intrusion,  and 
then  gave  a  very  energetic  history  of 
the  preceding  night.  It  had  been 
indeed  most  affectingly  dreadful.  The 
King  had  risen  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  and  would  take  no  denial  to 
walking  into  the  next  room.  There  he 
saw  the  large  congress  I  have  mentioned 
[of  anxious  watchers]  ;  amazed  and  in 
consternation,  he  demanded  what  they 
did  there.  .  .  .  Sir  George  Baker  .  .  . 
attempted  only  to  speak,  and  the  King 
penned  him  in  a  corner,  told  him  he 
was  a  mere  old  woman — that  he  won- 
dered he  had  ever  followed  his  advice. 


George  III.  and  his   Heir  Apparent      275 


for  he  knew  nothing  of  his  complaint, 
which  was  only  nei*vous.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Fairly  .  .  .  came  boldly  up  to  him, 
and  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  begged 
him  to  go  to  bed,  and  then  drew  him 
along,  and  said  he  must  go.  Then  he 
said  he  would  not,  and  cried  "  Who 
are  you  ?  "  "I  am  Mr.  Fairly,  sir,"  he 
answered,  "  and  your  Majesty  has  been 
very  good  to  me  often,  and  now  I  am 
going  to  be  very  good  to  you,  for  you 
must  come  to  bed,  sir  :  it  is  necessary 
to  your  life."  And  then  he  was  so 
-surprised,  that  he  let  himself  be  drawn 
along  just  like  a  child  ;  and  so  they  got 
him  to  bed. 

Letter  of  J.  W.  Payne  to  Richard 
Brinsley  Sheridan.  (In  Moore's 
Sheridan,  p.  355.) 

.  .  .  I  find  that  the  present  distemper 
has  been  very  palpable  for  some  time 
past.  .  .  .  the  two  days  (viz  :  yester- 
day se'ennight  and  the  Monday  follow- 
ing) that  he  was  five  hours  each  on 
horseback,  he  was  in  a  confirmed 
frenzy.  On  the  Monday  at  his  return 
he  burst  out  into  tears  to  the  Duke  of 
York,  and  said,  "  He  wished  to  God 
he  might  die,  for  he  was  going  to  be 
mad."  .  .  .  The  Doctors  told  Pitt  .  .  . 
that  they  were  perfectly  ready  to  declare 
now,  for  the  furtherance  of  public  bus- 
iness, that  he  is  now  insane. 

Letter  of  Lord  Bulkeley  to  the 
Marquis  of  Buckingham.  (In  Buck- 
ingham Papers.  London,  1853,  p.  444.) 

Nov.  11,  17S8. 
.  .  .  We  have  been  at  Windsor  the 
last  three  mornings,  and  sorry  am  I  to 
tell  you  that  poor  Rex's  state  seems 
worse  than  a  thousand  deaths  ;  for  un- 
less God  interposes  by  some  miracle, 
there  is  every  appearance  of  his  living 
with  the  loss  of  his  intellects.  ...  I 
saw  the  General,  who  was  exceedingly 
guarded,  as  they  all  are  who  really  love 


poor  Rex.  .  .  .  The  Queen  sees  nobody 
but  Lady  Constance,  Lady  Charlotte 
Finch,  Miss  Burney,  and  her  two  sons, 
who,  I  am  afraid,  do  not  announce  the 
state  of  the  King's  health  with  that 
caution  and  delicacy  which  should  be 
observed  to  the  wife  and  the  mother, 
and  it  is  to  them  only  that  she  looks 
up.   .   .   . 

The  stocks  are  already  fallen  2  per 
cent,  and  the  alarms  of  the  people  of 
London  are  very' little  flattering  to  the 
Prince. 


3.  Extract  from  Lady  Harcourt's 
Diary.  (In  Jesse,  Memoirs  of  the 
Reign  of  George  III.) 

178S. 
.  .  .  The  unhappy  patient  upon 
whom  this,  the  most  terrible  visitation 
of  Heaven,  has  fallen,  was  no  longer 
dealt  with  as  a  human  being.  His 
body  was  immediately  enclosed  in  a 
machine,  which  left  it  no  liberty  of 
motion.  He  was  sometimes  chained  to 
a  staple.  He  was  frequently  beaten 
and  starved,  and,  at  the  best,  he  was 
kept  in  subjection  by  menacing  and 
violent  language.  The  history  of  the 
King's  illness  showed  that  the  most 
exalted  station  did  not  wholly  exempt 
the  sufferer  from  this  stupid  and  in- 
human usage.  The  King's  disorder 
manifested  itsself  principally  in  unceas- 
ing talk,  but  no  disposition  to  violence 
was  exhibited.  Yet  he  was  subjected 
constantly  to  the  severe  discipline  of 
the  straight  waistcoat ;  he  was  secluded 
from  the  Queen  and  his  family  ;  he  was 
denied  the  use  of  a  knife  and  fork,  of 
scissors,  or  any  instrument  with  which 
he  might  inflict  bodily  injury.  Such 
petty  vexatious  treatment  could  not  fail 
to  aggravate  a  disorder,  the  leading 
symptom  of  which  was  nervous  irri- 
tability, caused  by  over  application, 
extreme  abstemiousness,  and  domestic 
anxiety.     It  would   have  been  well  if 


276       George  III.  and  his   Heir  Apparent 


the  errors  of  the  physicians  had  been 
confined  to  ignorance.  But  their  negli- 
gence was  still  more  reprehensible. 
While  the  poor  maniac  was  deprived 
of  those  tender  offices  which  his  wife 
and  daughters  might  have  rendered,  he 
was  abandoned  to  the  care  of  low  mer- 
cenaries, and  so  little  discrimination 
was  observed  in  the  choice  of  his  at- 
tendants, that  the  charge  of  his  person 
devolved  chiefly  on  a  German  page 
named  Ernst,  who  was  utterly  un- 
worthy to  be  trusted  with  the  care  of 
the  humblest  of  his  fellow  creatures. 
This  man,  who  had  been  raised  by  the 
patronage  of  His  Majesty,  repaid  the 
kindness  of  his  royal  master  with  the 
most  brutal  ingratitude.  He  went  so 
far  as  to  strike  the  helpless  King ;  and 
on  one  occasion,  when  his  Majesty 
wished  to  protract  his  exercise  in  the 
gardens  at  Kew,  Ernst  seized  him  in 
his  arms,  carried  him  into  a  chamber, 
and  throwing  him  violently  on  a  sofa, 
exclaimed  in  an  insolent  manner  to  the 
attendants,  "There  is  your  King  for 
you." 

[Lady  Harcourt  was  a  Lady  of  the 
Bedchamber  to  the  Queen,  and  gives 
the  King  himself  as  voucher  for  some 
of  these  details — not  altogether  a  safe 
source  of  information.  We  know  how- 
ever that  the  page  Ernst  had  a  violent 
temper ;  Mrs.  Papendiek  speaks  of  him 
as  being  in  "  one  of  his  bad  humours." 
That  the  physicians  who  were  first 
called  in  used  a  restrictive  policy,  which 
Dr.  Willis  at  once  reversed,  is  also 
certain.  Medical  methods  were  still 
very  barbarous.  Lady  Harcourt' s 
testimony  can  not  be  entirely  thrown 
aside.  It  is  to  her  that  we  owe  certain 
other  shocking  details — as,  for  instance, 
the  fact  that  at  Brookes' s,  the  fashion- 
able club  for  card-playing,  it  was  usual 
for  the  Prince's  followers  to  say  "  I 
play  the  lunatic,"  meaning  the  King. 
— Ld.] 


Extract  from  Thviss' s  Life  of  Lord 
Chancellor  Eldon.  (London,  1844. 
Vol.  I.  p.  230.) 

The  King,  during  one  of  his  illnesses,, 
complained  to  Lord  Eldon,  who  re- 
lated the  story  to  Mr.  Farrar,  that  a 
man  in  the  employ  of  some  of  his- 
physicians,  had  knocked  him  down. 
"When  I  got  up  again,"  added  the 
King,  "  I  said  my  foot  had  slipped,, 
and  ascribed  my  fall  to  that ;  it  would 
not  do  for  me  to  admit  that  the  King 
had  been  knocked  down  by  any  one." 

Mr.     W.     W.    Grenville  to   the  Mar- 
quis of  Buckingham. 

Dec.  7,  1788. 

r  .  .  I  have  just  seen  a  man  who  saw 
a  note  of  Willis's  dated  late  last  night, 
in  which  he  says  that  he  is  confident 
the  King  would  do  very  well.  ...  It 
is  quite  ridiculous  to  see  how  angry  the 
Opposition  are  at  the  report  of  the  phy- 
sicians. .  .  .  The  behaviour  of  the  two 
princes  is  such  as  to  shock  every  man's 
feelings.  What  do  you  think  of  the 
Duke  of  York's  having  a  meeting  of 
the  Opposition  at  his  house  on  Thurs- 
day, before  the  House  of  Lords  met, 
and  then  going  down  there  to  hear  the 
examinations  [of  the  physicians]  read  ? 
After  that,  they  closed  the  day  by  both 
going  in  the  evening  to  Brooks's.  The 
truth  is,  that  the  Duke  is  entirely  in  his 
brother's  hands,  and  that  the  latter  is 
taking  inconceivable  pains  to  keep  him 
so.  .  .  .  There  seems  great  reason  to 
believe  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  is 
inclined  to  go  to  all  the  lengths  to  which 
that  party  are  pushing  him.    .   .   . 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  confusion,  and 
while  his  sons  and  brothers  are  strug- 
gling to  gain  entire  possession  of  his 
authority,  the  King  may  recover  his 
reason.  What  a  scene  will  present 
itsself  to  him  !  and  how  devoutly  must 
he  pray,  if  he  is  wise,  to  lose  again  all 
power  of  recollection  or  reflection. 


'f  ///<*'      /  H/J> 


CO/J./SCTIOS 


George  III.  and  his   Heir  Apparent      277 


Dec.  21. 

You  will  see  in  the  Opposition  papers 
that  they  are  beginning  to  abuse  the 
Queen  in  the  most  open  and  scandalous 
manner.   .   .  . 

If  we  were  together,  I  could  tell  you 
some  particulars  of  the  Prince  of 
Wales's  behaviour  towards  the  King 
and  her,  within  these  few  days,  that 
would  make  your  blood  run  cold ;  but 
I  dare  not  commit  them  to  paper,  be- 
cause of  my  informant. 

Lord  Bulkeley  to  Marquis  of 
Buckingham. 

No  date. 
The  Princes  go  on  in  their  usual  style, 
both  keeping  open  houses,  and  employ- 
ing every  means  in  their  power  to  gain 
proselytes.  .  .  .  The  Duke  of  York 
never  misses  a  night  at  Brookes' s, 
where  the  hawks  pluck  his  feathers  un- 
mercifully, and  have  reduced  him  to 
the  vowels  I.  O.  U.  The  Prince  like- 
wise attends  very  often,  and  has  taken 
kindly  to  play. 


4.  Mrs.  Papendiek's  Journals. 

The  King  was  allowed  pens,  ink  and 
paper,  and  wrote  down,  as  a  sort  of 
journal,  every  occurrence  that  took 
place,  and  every  conversation,  as  cor- 
rectly as  could  be. 

Twice  only  was  the  King  shaved 
between  November  and  some  time  in 
January.  My  father,  though  principal 
barber,  the  title  of  his  300/.  a  year 
place,  was  too  nervous  to  undertake  it. 
Mr.  Papendiek,  however,  was  ready. 
He  begged  the  Queen  to  have  Palmer, 
the  razor-maker,  down,  that  there  might 
be  no  flaw  or  hitch  in  the  instruments, 
and  the  razor  well  sharpened.  This 
was  done,  and  Mr.  Papendiek  succeeded 
in  clearing  the  two  cheeks  at  one  sitting, 
which,  with  the  King's  talking  in  be- 
tween, was  nearly  a  two  hours'  job. 
The  Queen,  out  of  sight  of  the  King, 
sat  patiently  to  see  it  done,  which  was 


achieved  without  one  drop  of  blood. 
The  condition  of  the  Queen  was  pitiable 
in  the  extreme.  The  first  days  of  her 
terrible  grief  she  passed  almost  entirely 
with  her  hands  and  arms  stretched 
across  a  table  before  her,  with  her 
head  resting  upon  them,  and  she  took 
nothing  to  eat  or  drink  except  once  or 
twice  a  little  barley  water.  .  .  .  Mr. 
Papendiek  told  me  afterwards  that  the 
silence  and  gloom  within  the  walls  of 
the  Lodge  was  something  terrible.   .   .   . 

The  conduct  of  the  Prince  of  Wales 
was,  during  this  season  of  affliction, 
very  heartless.  ...  At  first  the  Queen 
could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  see  him. 
.  .  .  When  he  began  to  enter  upon  po- 
litical conversation,  her  Majesty  said 
that  the  equerries  and  Miss  Goldsworthy 
must  be  called  to  answer  the  Prince, 
who,  after  being  most  severe,  and 
knocking  his  stick  several  times  upon 
the  floor,  while  condemning  the  whole 
of  what  had  been  done,  bowed  and  re- 
tired without  kissing  the  Queen's  hand 
according  to  the  usual  custom.   .   .   . 

His  Majesty  used  to  inquire  who 
called,  and  on  wishing  to  be  told  if 
Lord  North  had  ever  been,  was 
answered  in  the  affirmative.  Then  the 
King  said,  "  He  might  have  recollected 
me  sooner.  However,  he,  poor  fellow, 
has  lost  his  sight,  and  I  my  mind.  Yet 
we  meant  well  to  the  Americans ;  just 
to  punish  them  with  a  few  bloody  noses, 
and  then  to  make  bows  for  the  mutual 
happiness  of  the  two  countries.  But 
want  of  principle  got  into  the  army. 
.  .  .  We  lost  America.  Tell  him  not 
to  call  again  ;   I  shall  never  see  him." 


5 .  Extracts  from  the  Auckland  Corre- 
spondence. 

Lord  Sheffield  to  Mr.  Eden. 

Dec.  12,  1788. 
.   .  .  Dr.  Willis,  who  seems  now  to 
have  the  principal  management  of  the 
King,    is    a   clergyman,    and    keeps   a 


278       George  III.  and  his  Heir  Apparent 


mad-house  in  Lincolnshire.  He  is 
considered  by  some  as  not  much  better 
than  a  mountebank,  and  not  far  differ- 
ent from  some  of  those  that  are  con- 
fined in  his  house.   .   .   . 

Pitt  is  playing  the  game  without 
temper  or  judgment;  and  his  declara- 
tion in  Parliament  the  day  before  yes- 
terday, that  the  Prince  of  Wales  had 
no  better  right  or  claim  to  the  Regency 
than  any  other  subject,  gives  as  much 
offence  and  alarm  as  Fox's  assertion, 
that  he  was  of  right  entitled  to  it. 
17th  Dec. 

...  Pitt's  mountebank  speeches  suit 
the  nonsense  of  many,  however  they 
may  be  execrated  and  disliked  by 
others.  .  .  .  His  plan  is  to  maintain 
the  present  household  unalterable,  and 
to  prevent  the  creation  of  peers. 

The    Archbishop    of     Canterbury    to 
Mr.  Eden. 

.  .  .  Since  Dr.  Willis  of  Lincoln- 
shire, has  been  called  in,  our  hope  has 
been  .  more  firm  and  constant,  and  at 
this  moment  stands  very  high.  He 
has  had  great  experience  in  this  malady 
for  eight  and  twenty  years,  and  great 
success.  .  ..  .  The  doctor  says  con- 
fidently that  in  such  a  case  in  common 
life,  he  should  promise  himself  a  per- 
fect cure  in  a  very  short  time — a  few 
weeks — that  he  does  promise  it  himself 
in  this  case,  though  aware  that  it  has 
difficulties  in  the  way  which  common 
cases  have  not.  .  .  .  Will  the  new 
regent  be  soon  named?  I  think  yes. 
WTilL  he  change  the  Government  di- 
rectly? Will  the  country  bear  this? 
Will  the  King's  recovery  be  hazarded, 
should  he  in  the  commencement  of  it 
find  great  changes?  These  are  very 
serious  speculations  on  which  I  don't 
venture  to  give  an  opinion.  It  is  an 
awful  moment,  my  dear  friend.  May 
it  please  God  to  conduct  us  safely 
through  it ! 


Lord  Sheffield  to  Mr.  Eden. 
Nov.  22,  1788. 
.  .  .  For  obvious  reasons  it  is  the 
policy  of  those  attached  to  Administra- 
tion to  represent  the  King' s  state  better 
than  it  is.  .  .  .  There  is  a  difference 
of  opinion  as  to  his  health,  and  one 
part  of  the  public  believes  his  constitu- 
tion broken  up,  while  another  part 
flatters  itsself  that  the  illness  is  the 
effect  of  fever.  .  .  .  Cabal  flourishes. 
The  Prince  gains  much  credit  by  his 
conduct  at  Windsor.  The  poor  King's 
illness  is  not  melancholy  or  mischiev- 
ous ;  at  times  it  is  rather  gay.  Yester- 
day se'ennight  he  talked  incessantly  for 
sixteen  hours,  to  divert  him  from  which, 
they  endeavoured  to  turn  him  to  writ- 
ing :  at  last  he  began  to  compose  notes- 
on  Don  Quixote.  He  fancies  London 
is  drowned  and  orders  his  yacht  to  go 
there.  He  took  Sir  George  Baker's 
wig,  flung  it  in  his  face,  threw  him  on 
his  back,  and  told  him  he  might  star- 
gaze. Sir  George  is  rather  afraid  of 
him.  In  one  of  his  soliloquies  he  said, 
"I  hate  nobody,  why  should  anybody 
hate  me?"  recollecting  a  little  he 
added,  "  I  beg  pardon,  I  do  hate  the 
Marquis  of  Buckingham."  The  Queen 
has  not  seen  the  King  since  the  first 
days  of  the  disorder,  except  once,, 
which  produced  an  affecting  scene. 
He  contrived  to  steal  out  of  his  room 
in  search  of  her,  supposing  she  and  his- 
children  were  stolen  from  him.  She 
lay  in  a  near  room.  He  got  to  her 
bed-side,  drew  the  curtain,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  She  is  there,"  seemingly 
satisfied.  He  was  without  difficulty 
conducted  to  his  apartment. 

Sir  John  Eden  to  Mr.  Eden. 
Dec.  11,  1788. 
...  I  this  day  heard  from  a  stranger 
that  symptoms  of  this  disorder  appeared 
in  1782;   if  so,  I  should  imagine  occa- 
sioned by  the  American  War.    .   .   .  We 


v.H. 


PITT 


George  III.  and  his  Heir  Apparent      279 


shall  soon  be  in  a  complete  ferment. 
Mr.  Fox  yesterday  advanced  some  doc- 
trine which  Mr.  Pitt  construed  little 
short  of  treason.  This  brought  on 
acrimony  from  Fox,  a  rejoinder  from 
Pitt,  and  a  severe  speech  from  Burke, 
who  termed  Pitt  a  competitor  for  the 
Regency.  The  House  of  Lords  are 
this  day  on  the  same  business,  the  report 
of  the  physicians.  Many  people  seem 
to  think  the  minister  [Pitt]  means  to 
have  a  committee  of  Regency,  himself 
the  chief  {King  William  the  Fourth), 
but  I  am  not  of  this  opinion ;  however 
he  seems  to  have  spoken  so  freely  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales  as  to  indicate  a 
design  of  retiring  if  the  Prince  becomes 
Regent. 

Captain  Sidney  Smith,  R.  JV.,  to 
Mr.  Eden. 

Dec.  30,  1788. 
.  .  .  The  "opposition"  physicians 
about  his  Majesty  (and  however  odd  it 
may  sound  such  there  have  been)  say 
everything  they  can  to  invalidate  the 
daily  testimonies  of  the  others,  so 
between  both,  the  public  are  strangely 
divided  in  doubts,  hopes,  and  fears.  .  .  . 
The  poor  Queen  is,  as  may  be  supposed, 
worn  to  a  skeleton.  ...  I  shall  .  .  . 
take  my  leave  of  this  subject  by  satisfy- 
ing a  query  that  must  arise  in  your 
mind,  viz.  whether  the  Prince  will  take 
the  Regency;  with  restrictions  it  is 
supposed  he  will,  lest  the  Queen  should, 
as  the  Parliament,  having  established 
their  right  and"  overset  the  injudicious 
claim  made  by  his  friends  in  favour  of 
his  right,  might  and  would  offer  it  to 
her  Majesty,  and  she  has  no  reason  to 
be  delicate  with  regard  to  his  Royal 
Highness  from  his  treatment  of  her. 

The    Archbishop    of    Canterbury    to 
Mr.  Eden. 

Jan   1 6th,  1789. 
.   .   .  It  is  a  strange  subject  for  party 
to    exist   upon,  and   disgraceful  to  the 


country  that  it  should  be  so  ;  but  so  it 
is,  and  many  pronounce  Warren  a  party 
man  in  his  accounts  of  a  deep  dye, 
while  Willis  is  supposed  to  delude 
himself  by  his  ambition  to  recover  the 
patient. 

Lord  Sheffield  to  Mr.  Eden. 
Jan  14,  1789. 
.  .  .  My  last  account  of  the  King  is 
that  he  had  had  but  five  hours'  sleep  in 
three  nights  and  days,  and  that  he  has 
been  extremely  furious.  His  pulse  was 
at  120  on  Sunday  night,  when  Pepys 
ordered  a  draft,  which  Willis  would 
not  give  him.  On  Monday  morning 
his  pulse  was  at  108  :  in  this  situation 
Willis  had  ordered  the  carriage  to  take 
him  out,  because  he  promised  him  an 
airing  the  day  before,  and  he  never 
broke  his  promise ;  however,  Warren 
and  Pepys  thought  Willis's  promise  of 
less  consequence  than  the  King's  life, 
and  kept  him  at  home. 

Miss  Sayer  to  Madame  Huber. 
Jan.  29,  1789. 
.  .  .  What  you  will  not  see  [in  the 
papers]  is  the  strange  supper  of  which 
I  am  going  to  tell  you,  and  which  Lady 
Mount  Edgcumbe  had  from  the  Duchess 
of  Gordon  herself,  who,  being  entirely 
for  Mr.  Pett,  is  vastly  teased  by  the 
princes,  whom  she  never  fails  to  answer 
extremely  well.  A  few  days  ago  Mrs. 
Richard  Walpole  gave  a  supper  to  the 
two  princes,  Mrs.  Fitzherbert  [the  heir 
apparent' s  wife. — Ed.],  Colonel  Ful- 
larton  .  .  .  and  a  few  others ;  the 
Duchess  of  Gordon  the  only  Pittite. 
The  Prince  says  :  "  What  a  fine  fellow 
my  brother  York  is  !  he  never  forsakes 
me.  The  other  day,  when  we  went  to 
look  for  the  King's  money,  jewels,  etc., 
at  Kew,  as  we  opened  the  drawers,  my 
mother  looked  very  uneasy,  and  grew 
angry.  Says  York  to  her,  "  Madam, 
I  believe  you  are  as  much  deranged  as 


280      George  III.  and  his  Heir  Apparent 


the  King."  .  .  .  The  Duchess  of  Gor- 
don (for  which  you  will  like  her  though 
a  Scotchwoman)  declared  if  they  began 
to  abuse  the  Queen  she  would  leave  the 
room. 

Extract  from  Lady  Harcourf s 
Diary.  (Massey's  England,  Vol.  III. 
p.  389.) 

Jack  Payne,  the  Prince's  secretary 
and  confidential  man,  one  day  uttered 
some  ribaldry  about  the  Queen  in  the 
presence  of  the  Duchess  of  Gordon : 
"You  little,  insignificant,  good-for-noth- 
ing, upstart,  pert,  chattering  puppy," 
said  her  Grace,  "  how  dare  you  name 
your  royal  master's  royal  mother  in 
that  style  ? ' ' 

Mr.  Huber  to  Mr.  Eden. 

Feb.  3rd,  1789. 
.  .  .  The  resolutions  of  the  Com- 
mons of  Wednesday  the  28th  are : 
"That  a  committee  be  appointed  to 
communicate  to  H.  R.  H.  the  Prince 
of  Wales  the  resolutions  which  the 
Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons  have 
agreed  to  for  providing  the  means  of 
supplying  the  defect  in  the  personal 
exercise  of  the  royal  authority,  under 
such  regulations  as  the  present  circum- 
stances may  require.  ..."  The  Prince 
is  highly  offended  at  all  these  restric- 
tions sine  qua  non. 


6.  Diary  of  Madame  d'Arblay. 

Kew  Palace,  Feb.  2. 

What  an  adventure  had  I  this  morn- 
ing !  one  that  has  occasioned  me  the 
severest  personal  terror  I  ever  experi- 
enced in  my  life.   .   .   . 

I  strolled  into  the  gardens.  I  had 
proceeded  in  my  quick  way,  nearly  half 
the  round,  when  I  suddenly  perceived, 
through  some  trees,  two  or  three  fig- 
ures. Relying  on  the  instructions  of 
Dr.  John  [Willis],  I  concluded  them 
to   be   workmen    and    gardeners ;    yet 


tried  to  look  sharp,  and  in  so  doing,  as 
they  were  less  shaded,  I  thought  It  was 
the  person  of  his  Majesty. 

Alarmed  past  all  possible  expression, 
I  waited  not  to  know  more,  but  turning 
back,  ran  off  with  all  my  might.  But 
what  was  my  terror  to  hear  myself  pur- 
sued ! — to  hear  the  voice  of  the  King 
himself  loudly  and  hoarsely  calling  after 
me,  "  Miss  Burney  !     Miss  Burney  ! " 

I  protest  I  was  ready  to  die.  I  knew 
not  in  what  state  he  might  be  at  the 
time  ;  I  only  knew  the  orders  to  keep 
out  of  his  way  were  universal.  .  .  . 
The  steps  still  pursued  me,  and  still 
the  poor  hoai*se  and  altered  voice  rang 
in  my  ears  : — more  and  more  footsteps 
resounded  frightfully  behind  me, — the 
attendants  all  running,  to  catch  their 
eager  master,  and  the  voices  of  the  two 
Dr.  Willises  loudly  exhorting  him  not 
to  heat  himself  so  unmercifully. 

Heavens,  how  I  ran  !  I  do  not  think 
I  should  have  felt  the  hot  lava  from 
Vesuvius — at  least  not  the  hot  cinders — 
had  I  so  run  during  its  eruption.  My 
feet  were  not  sensible  that  they  even 
touched  the  ground. 

Soon  after,  I  heard  other  voices, 
shriller,  though  less  nervous,  call  out 
"Stop!  stop!  stop!"  .  .  .  I  fairly  be- 
lieve no  one  of  the  whole  party  could 
have  overtaken  me,  if  these  words, 
from  one  of  the  attendants  had  not 
reached  me,  "  Dr.  Willis  begs  you  to 
stop ! " 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  "  I  answered, 
still  flying  on,  when  he  called  out  "  You 
must,  ma'am  ;  it  hurts  the  King  to  run." 

Then,  indeed,  I  stopped — in  a  state 
of  fear  really  amounting  to  agony.  I 
turned  round,  I  saw  the  two  Doctors 
had  got  the  King  between  them,  and 
three  attendants  of  Dr.  Willis's  were 
hovering  about.   .   .   . 

When  they  were  within  a  few  yards 
of  me,  the  King  called  out  "  Why  did 
you  run  away  ? " 


George  III.  and  his  Heir  Apparent      281 


Shocked  at  a  question  impossible  to 
answer,  yet  a  little  assured  by  the  mild 
tone  of  his  voice,  I  instantly  forced  my- 
self forward,  to  meet  him,  though  the 
internal  sensation  which  satisfied  me 
this  was  a  step  the  most  proper,  to  ap- 
pease his  suspicions  and  displeasure, 
was  so  violently  combated  by  the  tremor 
of  my  nerves,  that  I  fairly  think  I  may 
reckon  it  the  greatest  effort  of  personal 
courage  I  have  ever  made. 

The  effort  answered  ;  I  looked  up, 
and  met  all  his  wonted  benignity  of 
countenance,  though  something  still  of 
wildness  in  his  eyes.  Think,  however, 
of  my  surprise,  to  feel  him  put  both  his 
hands  round  my  two  shoulders,  and 
then  kiss  my  cheek  ! 

I  wonder  I  did  not  really  sink,  so 
exquisite  was  my  affright  when,  I  saw 
him  spread  out  his  arms  !  Involuntar- 
ily, I  concluded  he  meant  to  crush  me 
fbut  enough  of  Miss  Burney's  exagger- 
ated emotions. — Ed.] 

The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
to  Mr.  Eden. 

Feb.  13,  1789. 

...  I  saw  Mr.  Pitt  while  I  was  out ; 
he  was  just  come  from  Kew.  and 
brought  from  thence  everything  that 
can  encourage  hope  [of  the  King's  re- 
covery]. Few  opposition  people  were 
at  the  House,  and  those  few  languid, 
like  men  with  whom  hope  deferred  has 
made  the  heartsick.  Sheridan  and  Co. 
may  at  all  events  urge  to  get  possession 
for  the  sake  of  rank,  let  the  possession 
be  ever  so  short ;  but  it  is  too  shocking 
to  suppose  the  Prince  will  submit  to 
this. 

Feb.  20. 

.  .  .  The  Regency  Bill  was  yester- 
day put  off,  and  the  House  adjourned 
till  Tuesday,  it  being  the  opinion  of  all 
lawyers  that  in  the  King's  present  state 
the  great  seal  could  not  be  put  to  a  bill 
to  transfer  the  regal  powers. 


Madame  Huber  to  Mrs.  Eden. 
Feb.  21. 

.  .  .  Even  Dr.  Warren  said  at  Kew 
the  other  day,  that  the  amendment  was 
great :  he  [the  King]  has  written  sev- 
eral letters  to  London,  and  has  settled 
some  accounts  with  perfect  recollection 
and  coolness,  and  is  constantly  serene, 
cheerful  and  composed.  Mr.  Burke  is 
almost  mad,  and  will  be  quite  so,  no 
doubt,  if  the  King  recovers,  though  he 
has  already  renounced  his  intention  of 
disputing  that  point,  whenever  it  is  as- 
serted. "  They  may  (says  he)  bring 
back  a  King  subdued  and  quieted  by 
coercion."  Being  called  to  order,  he 
complained  of  interruption.  Mr.  Pitt 
answered  him  most  completely  with 
such  cold  contempt,  informing  him  that 
he  never  wished  to  do  away  with  the 
impression  his  speeches  made  on  the 
house.  After  this  great  violence  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  Mr.  Burke  found 
wrote  with  chalk  the  next  morning, 
"  Very  irritable  in  the  evening,  no  sleep 
all  night,  and  very  unquiet  this  morn- 
ing." The  Prince,  being  very  drunk 
the  other  night,  promised  a  regiment 
to  Captain  Macdonald,  who  has  not  the 
smallest  pretentions  to  one ;  but  he 
keeps  him  to  his  promise.  A  person 
who  saw  the  King  says,  though  thin, 
he  is  not  so  thin  as  he  has  been,  looks 
fresh  and  healthy,  and  much  handsomer 
from  not  being  so  weatherbeaten. 
Somebody,  a  few  days  ago,  attempted 
to  talk  politics  to  him,  but  he  said, 
"None  yet;  my  head  is  not  strong 
enough  for  that  subject." 

All  the  ladies  may  burn  their  Regency 
caps,  of  which,  no  doubt,  you  have  an 
account.  .  .  .  The  cheapest  .  .  .  costs 
seven  guineas.   .   .   . 

Some  better  news  of  our  excellent 
King ;  there  seems  now  to  be  no  doubt 
of  his  perfect  recovery.  ...  I  would 
give  a  great  deal  to  be  witness  of  the 
joy   in  England  on  this    happy  event. 


282       George  III,  and  his   Heir  Apparent 


The  Queen  surely  will  think  there  can 
never  be  enough  done  for  Dr.  Willis, 
and  I  hope  he  will  experience  the  grat- 
itude of  a  generous  nation  in  its  most 
powerful  esteem. 

Lord  Hawkesbury   to    Earl 
Comwallis. 

Jan.  6,  1789. 
.  .  .  The  personal  exercise  of  the 
Royal  Authority  is  at  an  end.  To 
supply  this  the  Prince  is  to  be  appointed 
Regent,  under  such  restrictions  as  do 
not  allow  him  to  do  anything  which 
the  King  will  not  be  able  to  undo,  if 
he  should  ever  be  able  to  resume  his 
government ;  and  the  Queen  is  to  have 
the  care  of  the  King's  person  and  the 
management  of  his  household.  These 
questions  we  are  warmly  to  discuss  in 
the  two  Houses  in  the  course  of  the 
next  ten  days.  The  Queen  supports 
the  King's  Ministers  and  servants;  and 
the  Prince  and  the  Duke  of  York  cleave 
to  Opposition ;  and  as  soon  as  the 
Regency  is  formed,  we  shall  certainly 
be  all  dismissed,  and  the  system  of  the 
Government  will  be  changed. 

Lord  Sydney  to  Earl  Comwallis. 
Feb.  21,  1789. 
.  .  .  The  Chancellor  was  yesterday 
with  H.  M.,  and  for  the  first  time 
talked  to  him  upon  business,  and 
opened  to  him,  in  part,  the  measures 
which  had  been  taken  during  his  con- 
finement. I  understand  that  H.  M. 
was  by  no  means  the  worse  for  this 
conversation.  Dr.  Willis,  who  attends 
him,  says  that,  were  he  a  private  man, 
he  should  advise  his  following  now  his 
his  usual  occupation.  .  .  .  But,  God 
knows,  H.  M.  will  have  a  severe  trial 
when  he  is  informed  of  all  that  has 
passed  during  the  unhappy  interval. 
Every  possible  care  will  no  doubt  be 
taken  to  prepare  him.  You  will  hear 
from   other   hands,  probably,  that    the 


P.  of  W.  has  got  complete  possession1 
of  the  D.  of  Y.,  and  they  had  medi- 
tated such  changes  in  the  state  and  in 
the  army  as  would  have  grieved  him 
exceedingly.  No  scruple  has  been 
made  of  declaring  that  a  general  swoop 
of  all  places  would  be  made,  if  the 
Regency  were  to  last  only  a  day.  .  .  . 
Our  own  domestic  scene  has  been  an 
interesting  one.  We  have  seen  no 
times  when  it  has  been  so  necessary  to 
separate  parties  in  private  company. 
The  acrimony  is  beyond  anything  you 
can  conceive.  The  ladies  are  as  usual 
at  the  head  of  all  animosity,  and  are 
distinguished  by  caps,  ribands,  and 
other  such  ensigns  of  party.  They 
have  driven  old  Queensbury  out  of 
England  by  calling  him  a  Rat  for 
deserting  his  master  to  hobble  after  a 
young  Prince.  ...  I  will  not  dwell 
upon  this  filthy  subject  even  to  state 
the  filthiest  conduct  of  North,  who  is 
led  down  to  the  House  to  act  under 
Sheridan  to  joke  upon  the  King's  mis- 
fortunes. Thank  God,  the  country  in 
all  parts  and  both  houses  of  Parliament 
have  nobly  stood  by  the  King.  More 
affection  and  concern  could  not  have 
been  shown,  and  H.  M.  will  have  the 
satisfaction  of  finding  how  much  he 
is  personally  beloved.  Mr.  Pitt  has 
conducted  himself  with  the  greatest 
judgment  and  ability — Fox  has  been 
dangerously  ill. 


7.  Extracts  from  Mrs.  Harcourt's 
Diary.  (In  Fitzgerald,  Life  of  George 
IV.    London,  1881,  Vol.  I.  p.  177.) 

Feb  22. 
Lady  C.  Finch  said  the  King  showed 
the  greatest  affection  to  the  Queen.  It 
was  the  attention  of  a  lover.  He 
seemed  to  delight  in  making  her  pres- 
ents —  kissed  her  hand  and  showed 
every  mark  of  tenderness.  I  was  just 
with  Lady  C.  when  Genl.  H.  came  to 


George  III.  and  his   Heir  Apparent      283 


fetch  me  to  Mr.  Smelt's  house  saying 
the  King  was  waiting  to  see  me.  I 
flew  up  stairs  where  I  found  the  King 
and  before  I  could  speak  he  caught  me 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  me,  which  I 
own  I  did  him  on  both  sides  of  his  face, 
telling  him  how  happy  I  was  and  how 
I  thanked  God  for  this  blessing  of  see- 
ing him  well.  .  .  .  He  looked  very 
thin  but  was  in  excellent  spirits,  mak- 
ing his  usual  jokes  and  looked  full  of 
kindness  and  benevolence.  Genl.  H. 
removed  from  the  K's  mind  a  preju- 
dice as  to  the  Queen's  leaving  him  at 
Windsor  before  he  .was  removed  to 
Kew  by  fully  explaining  the  plan  hav- 
ing been  so  arranged  by  the  physician 
and  the  King  declared  himself  highly 
pleased  and  satisfied.  The  King  and 
Queen  afterwards  came  together  to  see 
me.  She  was  dreadfully  reduced  and 
shewed  me  her  stays,  which  would 
wrap    twice    over.    .   .   . 

Mr.  Storer  to  Mr.  Eden. 

Apr.  21,  17S9. 
.  .  .  We  have  something  new  for  the 
day,  and  that  is,  a  ball  given  by  the 
club  of  Brooke's,  on  account  of  his 
Majesty's  recovery.  The  tickets  are  at 
three  guineas  and  a  half  each.  .  .  .  The 
club  of  White's  has  already  given  a 
ball ;  and,  as  the  ladies  in  opposition 
would  not  honour  the  Pantheon  with 
their  appearance,  so  (it  is  said)  the 
ladies  who  support  Government  will 
not  deign  to  attend  to-night  the  ball  at 
the  Opera-house.  [The  Prince  of  Wales 
bought  tickets  for  this  ball,  but  after- 


wards offered    them    at    public  sale. — 

Ed.] 

8.  Letter  of  Miss  Burney  (Madame 
d'Arblay)  to  her  Father. 

His  Majesty  is  in  delightful  health 
and  much  improved  spirits.  All  agree 
he  never  looked  better.  The  loyalty  of 
this  place  [Weymouth]  is  excessive ; 
they  have  dressed  out  every  street  with 
labels  of  "God  save  the  King;"  all 
the  shops  have  it  over  their  doors ;  all 
the  children  wear  it  in  their  caps,  all 
the  labourers  in  their  hats,  and  all  the 
sailors  in  their  voices,  for  they  never 
approach  the  house  without  shouting  it 
aloud,  nor  see  the  King,  or  his  shadow, 
without  beginning  to  huzza,  and  going 
on  to  three  cheers. 

The  bathing  machines  make  it  their 
motto  over  all  their  windows ;  and 
those  bathers  that  belong  to  the  Royal 
dippers  wear  it  in  bandeaux  on  their 
bonnets,  to  go  into  the  sea ;  and  have 
it  again  in  large  letters  round  their 
waists,  to  encounter  the  waves.  Flan- 
nel dresses  tucked  up,  and  no  shoes  nor 
stockings,  with  bandeaux  and  girdles, 
have  a  most  singular  appearance,  and 
when  first  I  surveyed  these  loyal  nymphs 
it  was  with  some  difficulty  I  kept  my 
features  in  order. 

Nor  is  this  all.  Think  but  of  the 
surprise  of  his  Majesty,  when,  the  first 
time  of  his  bathing,  he  had  no  sooner 
popped  his  Royal  head  under  water 
than  a  band  of  music,  concealed  in  a 
neighbouring  machine,  struck  up  "  God 
save  Great  George  our  King." 


284 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


group  xxx. 


THE    DEATH    OF    NELSON. 


i.  Letter  of  Nelson  to  Alexander 
Davison.  (Quoted  in  Barrow's  Auto- 
biography.    London,  1847,  P*  279-) 

Victory,  24th  July,  1805. 
I  am  as  miserable  as  you  can  con- 
ceive. But  for  General  Brereton's  d — d 
information  [that  the  French  fleet  had 
gone  to  the  West  Indies. — Ed.],  Nelson 
would  have  been,  living  or  dead,  the 
greatest  man  in  his  profession  that  Eng- 
land ever  saw.  Now,  alas !  I  am 
nothing — perhaps,  shall  incur  censure 
for  misfortunes  which  may  happen  and 
have  happened.  When  I  follow  my 
own  head  I  am,  in  general,  much  more 
correct  in  my  judgment  than  following 
the  opinions  of  others.  I  resisted  the 
opinion  of  General  Brereton's  informa- 
tion—  it  would  have  been  the  height  of 
presumption  to  have  carried  my  belief 
further. 

2.  Extracts  from  Barrow. 

In  the  autumn  of  1805  Lord  Nelson 
arrived  in  England,  and,  being  much 
out  of  health,  retired  to  a  small  place 
he  had  at  Merton,  where  he  remained 
in  quiet  in  the  midst  of  a  pretty  garden 
and  in  the  society  of  his  sister  and  Lady 
Hamilton.  But  the  enjoyment  he 
otherwise  would  have  had  is  said  to 
have  been  constantly  interrupted  by 
conjectures  of  what  the  enemy's  fleet 
consisted,  what  he  was  projecting,  and 
what  was  the  force  and  disposition  of 
his  own  fleet  to  meet  it.  While  he  was 
thus  tormenting  himself  in  matters  of 
this  kind,  and  in  calling  to  mind  the 
hope  he  had  expressed  to  Admiral 
Collingwood,  of  rejoining  him  in  the 
month  of  October,  Captain  Blackwood 
arrived  with  dispatches,  announcing 
that  the  combined  fleets  of  France  and 
Spain  had  got  into  Cadiz.  This  intel- 
ligence  admitted    of    no    hesitation    or 


delay — Nelson  was  himself  again.  He 
set  off  immediately  for  the  Admiralty ; 
told  Lord  Barham  he  was  on  his  way 
to  rejoin  his  fleet  the  moment  the 
"Victory"  was  ready  at  Spithead, 
where  a  squadron  was  prepared  as  a 
reinforcement ;  and  in  three  days  he 
was  again  in  town  on  his  way  to  Ports- 
mouth. 

He  had  been  with  me  at  the  Admir- 
alty in  the  morning,  anxiously  inquir- 
ing and  expressing  his  hopes  about  a 
code  of  signals  just  then  improved  and 
enlarged.  I  assured  him  they  were  all 
but  ready ;  that  he  should  not  be  dis- 
appointed, and  that  I  would  take  care 
they  should  be  at  Portsmouth  the  fol- 
lowing morning.  On  his  way,  in  the 
evening,  he  looked  in  upon  me  at  the 
Admiralty,  where  I  was  stopping  to  see 
them  off.  I  pledged  myself  not  to 
leave  the  office  till  a  messenger  was 
dispatched  with  the  signals,  should  the 
post  have  departed,  and  that  he  might 
rely  on  their  being  at  Portsmouth  the 
following  morning.  On  this  he  shook 
hands  with  me ;  I  wished  him  all  hap- 
piness and  success,  which  I  was  sure  he 
would  command  as  he  had  always 
done  ;  and  he  departed  apparently  more 
than  usually  cheerful.   .   .   . 


3.  Extracts  from  Nelson's  Diary  and 
Letters.      (Quoted  from  Barrow.) 

13  Sept. 

At  half-past  ten  drove  from  dear, 
dear  Merton,  where  I  left  all  which  I 
hold  dear  in  this  world,  to  go  to  serve 
my  king  and  country.  May  the  great 
God  whom  I  adore  enable  me  to  fulfil 
the  expectations  of  my  country  ;  and  if 
it  is  His  good  pleasure  that  I  should 
return,  my  thanks  will  never  cease 
being  offered  up  to  the  throne  of  His 
mercy.     If  it  is  His  good  providence  to 


NELSON.      1799  A.  D. 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


285 


cut  short  my  days  upon  earth,  I  bow 
with  the  greatest  submission,  relying 
that  he  will  protect  those  so  dear  to  me 
that  1  may  leave  behind.  His  will  be 
done.     Amen.     Amen. 

Oct.  1. 

(Letter.)  I  believe  my  arrival  was 
most  welcome,  not  only  to  the  com- 
mander of  the  fleet,  but  also  to  every 
individual  in  it :  and  when  I  came  to 
explain  to  them  the  Nelson  touch,  it 
was  like  an  electric  shock  :  some  shed 
tears — all  approved.  "  It  was  new — 
it  was  singular — it  was  simple;"  and 
from  admirals  downwards  it  was  re- 
peated. "  It  must  succeed  if  ever  they 
will  allow  us  to  get  at  them.  You 
are,  my  Lord,  surrounded  by  friends 
whom  you  inspire  with  confidence." 
Oct.  2 1  st. 

(Diary.)  May  the  great  God,  whom 
I  worship,  grant  to  my  country,  and 
for  the  benefit  of  Europe  in  general,  a 
great  and  glorious  victory ;  and  may 
no  misconduct  in  any  one  tarnish  it ; 
and  may  humanity  after  victory  be  the 
predominant  feature  in  the  British  fleet. 
For  myself,  individually,  I  commit  my 
life  to  Him  who  made  me,  and  may 
his  blessing  light  upon  my  endeavours 
for  serving  my  country  faithfully.  To 
Him  I  resign  myself,  and  the  just  cause 
which  is  entrusted  to  me  to  defend. 

Barrow. 

Never  can  I  forget  the  shock  I  re- 
ceived, on  opening  the  Board-room 
door,  the  morning  after  the  arrival  of 
the  dispatches,  when  Marsden  called 
out — "  Glorious  news  !  The  most  glori- 
ous victory  our  brave  navy  ever  achieved 
— but  Nelson  is  dead!"  The  vivid 
recollection  of  my  interview  with  this 
incomparable  man,  and  the  idea  that  I 
was  probably  the  last  person  he  had 
taken  leave  of  in  London,  left  an  im- 
pression of  gloom  on  my  mind  that 
required  some  time  to  remove. 


4.  Account  of  W.  Beatty,  the  Sur- 
geon of  the  "  Victory." 

.  .  .  Captain  Blackwood,  of  the 
Euryalus,  remained  on  board  the 
Victory  till  a  few  minutes  before  the 
Enemy  began  to  fire  upon  her.  He 
represented  to  his  Lordship  that  his 
Flagship  would  be  singled  out  and 
much  pressed  by  the  Enemy  ;  and  sug- 
gested the  propriety  therefore  of  per- 
mitting one  or  two  Ships  of  his  Line 
to  go  ahead  of  the  Victory,  and  lead 
her  into  action,  which  might  be  the 
means  of  drawing  in  some  measure  the 
Enemy's  attention  from  her. 

To  this  Lord  Nelson  assented  and  at 
half  past  nine  o'clock  he  ordered  the 
Temeraire  and  Leviathan  by  signal 
(the  former  of  which  ships,  being  close 
to  the  Victory,  was  hailed  by  his  Lord- 
ship) to  go  ahead  for  that  purpose  ;  but 
from  the  light  breeze  that  prevailed 
they  were  unable,  notwithstanding  their 
utmost  efforts,  to  attain  their  intended 
stations.   .   .   . 

About  half  an  hour  before  the  Enemy 
opened  their  fire,  the  memorable  tele- 
graphic signal  was  made,  that  "  Eng- 
land   EXPECTS    EVERY    MAN    WILL    DO 

his  duty,"  which  was  spread  and 
received  throughout  the  Fleet  with  en- 
thusiasm. It  is  impossible  adequately 
to  describe  by  any  language  the  lively 
emotions  excited  in  the  crew  of  the 
Victory  when  this  propitious  commu- 
nication was  made  known  to  them  :  con-, 
fidence  and  resolution  were  strongly 
pom-frayed  in  the  countenance  of  all ; 
and  the  sentiment  generally  expressed 
to  each  other  was,  that  they  would 
prove  to  their  Country  that  day,  how 
well  British  Seamen  could  "do  their 
duty"  when  led  to  battle  by  their 
revered  Admiral.   .   .   . 

At  fifty  minutes  past  eleven,  the 
Enemy  opened  their  fire  on  the  Com- 
mander in  Chief.  They  shewed  great 
coolness  in  the  commencement  of    the 


286 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


Battle ;  for  as  the  Victory  approached 
their  Line,  their  ships  lying  immediately 
ahead  of  her  and  across  her  bows  fired 
only  one  gun  at  a  time,  to  ascertain 
whether  she  was  yet  within  their  range. 
This  was  frequently  repeated  by  eight 
or  nine  of  their  ships,  till  at  length  a 
shot  passed  through  the  Victor -f  s  main 
top-gallant  sail :  the  hole  in  which 
being  discovered  by  the  Enemy,  they 
immediately  opened  their  broadsides, 
supporting  an  awful  and  tremendous 
fire. 

Lord  Nelson  and  Captain  Hardy 
walked  the  quarter  deck  in  conversation 
for  some  time  after  this,  while  the 
Enemy  kept  up  an  incessant  raking 
fire. 

A  double-headed  shot  struck  one  of 
the  parties  of  Marines  drawn  up  on  the 
poop,  and  killed  eight  of  them  ;  when 
his  Lordship,  perceiving  this,  ordered 
Captain  Adair  to  disperse  his  men 
round  the  ship,  that  they  might  not  suf- 
fer so  much  from  being  together. 

In  a  few  minutes  afterwards  a  shot 
struck  the  fore  brace  bits  on  the  quar- 
ter deck,  and  passed  between  Lord 
Nelson  and  Captain  Hardy ;  a  splinter 
from  the  bits  bruising  Captain  Hardy' s 
foot,  and  tearing  the  buckle  from  his 
shoe.  They  both  instantly  stopped ; 
and  were  observed  by  the  Officers  on 
deck  to  survey  each  other  with  inquir- 
ing looks,  each  supposing  the  other  to 
be  wounded.  His  Lordshipthen  smiled, 
and  said:  "This  is  too  warm  work, 
Hardy,  to  last  long;"  and  declared 
that  "through  all  the  Battles  he  had 
been  in,  he  had  never  witnessed  more 
cool  courage  than  was  displayed  by  the 
Victory' s  crew  on  this  occasion." 

The  Victory  by  this  time,  having 
approached  close  to  the  Enemy's  Van, 
had  suffered  very  severely  without  fir- 
ing a  single  gun :  she  had  lost  about 
twenty  men  killed,  and  had  about 
thirty  wounded.     Her  mizzen  topmast, 


and  all  her  studding  sails  and  their 
booms,  on  both  sides  were  shot  away ; 
the  Enemy's  fire  being  chiefly  directed 
at  her  rigging,  with  a  view  to  disable 
her  before  she  could  close  with  them. 

At  four  minutes  past  twelve  o'clock, 
she  opened  her  fire,  from  both  sides  of 
her  decks,  upon  the  Enemy ;  when 
Captain  Hardy  represented  to  his  Lord- 
ship, that  "  it  appeared  impracticable 
to  pass  through  the  Enemy's  Line  with- 
out going  on  board  some  one  of  their 
ships." 

Lord  Nelson  answered,  "  I  cannot 
help  it :  it  does  not  signify  which  we 
run  on  board  of ;  go  on  board  which 
you  please;  take  your  choice." 

At  twenty  minutes  past  twelve,  the 
tiller  ropes  being  shot  away  :  Mr.  At- 
kinson, the  Master,  was  ordered  below 
to  get  the  helm  put  to  port ;  which  be- 
ing done,  the  Victory  was  soon  run  on 
board  the  Redoubtable  of  seventy  four 
guns. 

On  coming  alongside  and  nearly  on 
board  of  her,  that  ship  fired  her  broad- 
side into  the  Victory,  and  immediately 
let  down  her  lower  deck  ports ;  which, 
as  has  been  since  learnt,  was  done  to 
prevent  her  from  being  boarded  through 
them  by  the  Victory' screw.  She  never 
fired  a  great  gun  after  this  single  broad- 
side. 

A  few  minutes  after  this,  the  Tem- 
eraire  fell  likewise  on  board  of  the 
Redoubtable,  on  the  side  opposite  to 
the  Victory;  having  also  an  Enemy's 
ship,  said  to  be  La  Fougueuse,  on 
board  of  her  on  her  other  side  :  so  that 
the  extraordinary  and  unprecedented 
circumstance  occurred  here,  of  four 
Ships  of  the  Line  being  on  board  of 
each  other  in  the  heat  of  battle ;  form- 
ing as  compact  a  tier  as  if  they  had 
been  moored  together,  their  heads  lying 
all  the  same  way.  The  Temeraire,  as 
was  just  before  mentioned,  was  between 
the  Redoubtable  and  La  Fougueuse. 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


287 


The  Redoubtable  commenced  a  heavy 
fire  of  musketry  from  the  tops,  which 
was  continued  for  a  considerable  time 
with  destructive  effect  to  the  Victory' s 
crew :  her  great  guns  however  being 
silent,  it  was  supposed  at  different 
times  that  she  had  surrendered  ;  and  in 
consequence  of  this  opinion,  the  Vic- 
tory twice  ceased  firing  upon  her  by 
Orders  transmitted  from  the  quarter 
deck. 

At  this  period,  scarcely  a  person  in 
the  Victory  escaped  unhurt  who  was 
exposed  to  the  Enemy's  musketry;  but 
there  were  frequent  huzzas  and  cheers 
heard  from  between  the  decks,  in  token 
of  the  surrender  of  different  of  the 
Enemy's  ships.  An  incessant  fire  was 
kept  up  from  both  sides  of  the  Victory : 
her  larboard  guns  played  upon  the 
Santissima  Trinidada  and  the  Bucen- 
taur;  and  the  starboard  guns  of  the 
middle  and  lower  decks  were  depressed 
.and  fired  with  a  diminished  charge  of 
powder,  and  three  shot  each,  into  the 
Redoubtable.  This  mode  of  firing  was 
adopted  by  Lieutenants  Williams,  King, 
Yule,  and  Brown,  to  obviate  the  danger 
of  the  Temeraire' '  s  suffering  from  the 
Victory' s  shot  passing  through  the  Re- 
doubtable; which  must  have  been  the 
case  if  the  usual  quantity  of  powder, 
and  the  common  elevation,  had  been 
given  to  the  guns. 

A  circumstance  occurred  in  this  sit- 
uation which  showed  in  a  most  striking 
manner  the  cool  intrepidity  of  the  Offi- 
cers and  men  stationed  on  the  lower 
deck  of  the  Victory.  When  the  guns 
on  this  deck  were  run  out,  their 
muzzles  came  into  contact  with  the 
Redoubtable' s  side  ;  and  consequently 
at  every  discharge  there  was  reason  to 
fear  that  the  enemy  would  take  fire,  and 
both  the  Victory  and  the  Temeraire 
be  involved  in  her  flames.  Here  then 
was  seen  the  astonishing  spectacle  of 
the  Fireman  of  each  gun  standing  ready 


with  a  bucket  full  of  water,  which  as 
soon  as  his  gun  was  discharged  he 
dashed  into  the  Enemy  through  the 
holes  made  in  her  side  by  the  shot. 

It  was  from  this  ship  (the  Redoubt- 
able) that  Lord  Nelson  received  his 
mortal  wound.  About  fifteen  minutes 
past  one  o'clock,  which  was  in  the  heat 
of  the  engagement,  he  was  walking  the 
middle  of  the  quarter  deck  with  Captain 
Hardy,  and  in  the  act  of  turning  near 
the  hatchway  with  his  face  towards  the 
stern  of  the  Victory,  when  the  fatal 
ball  was  fired  from  the  Enemy's  mizzen 
top  ;  which,  from  the  situation  of  the 
two  ships  (lying  on  board  of  each 
other),  was  brought  just  abaft,  and 
rather  below,  the  Victory' s  main  yard, 
and  of  course  not  more  than  fifteen 
yards  distant  from  that  part  of  the  deck 
where  his  Lordship  stood.  The  ball 
struck  the  epaulette  on  his  left  shoulder, 
and  penetrated  his  chest.  He  fell  with 
his  face  on  the  deck.  Captain  Hardy, 
who  was  on  his  right  (the  side  furthest 
from  the  Enemy)  and  had  advanced 
some  steps  before  his  Lordship,  on 
turning  round,  saw  the  Serjeant  Major 
(Seeker)  of  Marines  with  two  Seamen 
raising  him  from  the  deck  ;  where  he 
had  fallen  on  the  same  spot  on  which  a 
little  before,  his  Secretary  had  breathed 
his  last,  with  whose  blood  his  Lord- 
ship's clothes  were  much  soiled. 

Captain  Hardy  expressed  a  hope  that 
he  was  not  severely  wounded  ;  to  which 
the  gallant  Chief  replied  :  "  They  have 
done  for  me  at  last,  Hardy." 

"I  hope  not,"  answered  Captain 
Hardy. 

"Yes,"  replied  his  Lordship;  "  my 
backbone  is  shot  through." 

Captain  Hardy  ordered  the  Seamen 
to  carry  the  Admiral  to  the  Cockpit ; 
and  now  two  incidents  occurred  strik- 
ingly characteristic  of  this  great  man, 
and  strongly  marking  that  energy  and 
reflection  which  in  his  heroic  mind  rose 


288 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


superior  even  to  the  immediate  consid- 
eration of  his  present  awful  condition. 
While  the  men  were  carrying  him  down 
the  ladder  from  the  middle  deck,  his 
Lordship  observed  that  the  tiller  ropes 
were  not  yet  replaced  ;  and  desired  one 
of  the  Midshipmen  stationed  there  to  go 
upon  the  quarter  deck  and  remind  Cap- 
tain Hardy  of  that  circumstance,  and 
request  that  new  ones  should  be  im- 
mediately rove.  Having  delivered  this 
Order,  he  took  his  handkerchief  from 
his  pocket  and  covered  his  face  with 
it,  that  he  might  be  conveyed  to  the 
Cockpit  at  this  crisis  unnoticed  by  the 
crew.   .   .   . 

His  Lordship  was  laid  upon  a  bed, 
stripped  of  his  clothes,  and  covered 
with  a  sheet.  While  this  was  effecting, 
he  said  to  Dr.  Scott,  "  Doctor,  I  told 
you  so.  Doctor,  I  am  gone;"  and 
after  a  short  pause  he  added  in  a  low 
voice,  "  I  have  to  leave  Lady  Hamilton, 
and  my  adopted  daughter  Horatia,  as  a 
legacy  to  my  Country."    .   .   . 

The  true  nature  of  his  wound  was 
concealed  by  the  Surgeon  from  all  on 
board  except  only  Captain  Hardy, 
Dr.  Scott,  Mr.  Burke,  and  Messrs. 
Smith  and  Westemburg  the  Assistant 
Surgeons. 

The  Victory  s  crew  cheered  when- 
ever they  observed  an  Enemy's  ship 
surrender.  On  one  of  these  occasions, 
Lord  Nelson  anxiously  inquired  what 
was  the  cause  of  it ;  when  Lieutenant 
Pasco,  who  lay  wounded  at  some  dis- 
tance from  his  Lordship,  raised  him- 
self up,  and  told  him  that  another  ship 
had  struck,  which  appeared  to  give 
him  much  satisfaction.   .   .   . 

He  evinced  great  solicitude  for  the 
event  of  the  Battle,  and  fears  for  the 
safety  of  his  friend  Captain  Hardy. 
Dr.  Scott  and  Mr.  Burke  used  every 
argument  they  could  suggest,  to  relieve 
his  anxiety. 

Mr.  Burke   told    him    "  the   Enemy 


were  decisively  defeated,  and  that  he 
hoped  his  Lordship  would  still  live  to 
be  himself  the  bearer  of  the  joyful 
tidings  to  his  Country." 

He  replied,  "it  is  nonsense,  Mr. 
Burke,  to  suppose  I  can  live  :  my  suffer- 
ings are  great,  but  they  will  all  be  soon 
over." 

Dr.  Scott  entreated  his  Lordship 
"not  to  despair  of  living,"  and  said 
"he  trusted  that  Divine  Providence 
would  restore  him  once  more  to  his 
dear  Country  and  friends." 

"Ah,  Doctor!"  replied  his  Lord- 
ship, "it  is  all  over ;  it  is  all  over !  " 

Many  messages  were  sent  to  Captain 
Hardy  by  the  Surgeon,  requesting  his- 
attendance  on  his  Lordship ;  who  be- 
came impatient  to  see  him,  and  often 
exclaimed  :  "  Will  no  one  bring  Hardy 
to  me  ?  He  must  be  killed :  he  is 
surely  destroyed." 

The  Captain's  Aide-de-Camp  Mr. 
Bulkley,  now  came  below,  and  stated 
that  "  circumstances  respecting  the 
Fleet  required  Captain  Hardy's  pres- 
ence on  deck  ;  but  that  he  would  avail 
himself  of  the  first  favourable  moment 
to  visit  his  Lordship."   .   .   . 

An  hour  and  ten  minutes,  however, 
elapsed  from  the  time  of  his  Lordship's 
being  wounded  before  Captain  Hardy's 
first  subsequent  interview  with  him ; 
the  particulars  of  which  are  nearly  as 
follow. 

They  shook  hands  affectionately,  and 
Lord  Nelson  said  :  "  Well,  Hardy,  how 
goes  the  Battle?  How  goes  the  day 
with  us?" 

"Very  well,  my  Lord,"  replied 
Captain  Hardy  :  "  we  have  got  twelve 
or  fourteen  of  the  Enemy's  ships  in  our 
possession ;  but  five  of  their  Van  have 
tacked,  and  shew  an  intention  of  bear- 
ing down  upon  the  Victory.  I  have 
therefore  called  two  or  three  of  our 
fresh  ships  around  us,  and  have  no- 
doubt  of  giving  them  a  drubbing." 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


289 


"  I  hope,"  said  his  Lordship,  "  none 
of  our  ships  have  struck,  Hardy." 

"  No,  my  Lord,"  replied  Captain 
Hardy  ;  "  there  is  no  fear  of  that." 

Lord  Nelson  then  said:  "I  am  a 
dead  man,  Hardy.  I  am  going  fast ; 
it  will  be  all  over  with  me  soon.  Come 
nearer  to  me.  Pray  let  my  dear  Lady 
Hamilton  have  my  hair,  and  all  other 
things  belonging  to  me."  Mr.  Burke 
was  about  to  withdraw  at  the  com- 
mencement of  this  conversation ;  but 
his  Lordship,  perceiving  his  intention, 
desired  he  would  remain. 

Captain  Hardy  observed,  that  "  he 
hoped  Mr.  Beatty  could  yet  hold  out 
some  prospect  of  life." 

"  Oh  !  no,"  answered  his  Lordship  ; 
"it  is  impossible.  My  back  is  shot 
through.     Beatty  will  tell  you  so." 

Captain  Hardy  then  returned  on 
deck,  and  at  parting  shook  hands  again 
with  his  revered  friend  and  Com- 
mander. 

His  Lordship  now  requested  the  Sur- 
geon, who  had  previously  been  absent 
a  short  time  attending  Mr.  Rivers,  to 
return  to  the  wounded ;  and  give  his 
assistance  to  such  of  them  as  he  could 
be  useful  to;  "for,"  said  he,  "you 
can  do  nothing  for  me!"  The  Sur- 
geon assured  him  that  the  Assistant 
Surgeons  wei"e  doing  everything  that 
could  be  effected  for  those  unfortunate 
men ;  but  on  his  Lordship' s  several 
times  repeating  his  injunctions  to  that 
purpose,  he  left  him  surrounded  by 
Dr.  Scott,  Mr.  Burke,  and  two  of  his 
Lordship's  domestics.   .    .   . 

He  often  exclaimed,  "God  be 
praised,  I  have  done  my  duty,"  and 
upon  the  Surgeon's  enquiry  whether 
his  pain  was  very  great,  he  declared, 
"  it  continued  so  very  severe,  that  he 
wished  he  was  dead.  Yet,"  said  he  in 
a  lower  voice,  "  one  would  like  to  live 
a  little  longer,  too  "  :  and  after  a  pause 
of  a  few  minutes,  he  added  in  the  same 


tone,  "What  would  become  of  poor 
Lady  Hamilton,  if  she  knew  my  situa- 
tion ? "    .    .   . 

Captain  Hardy  now  came  to  the 
Cockpit  to  see  his  Lordship  a  second 
time,  which  was  after  an  interval  of 
about  fifty  minutes  from  the  conclusion 
of  the  first  visit.  Before  he  quitted  the 
deck  he  sent  Lieutenant  Hills  to  ac- 
quaint Admiral  Colling  wood  with  the 
lamentable  circumstance  of  Lord  Nel- 
son's being  wounded. 

Lord  Nelson  and  Captain  Hardy 
shook  hands  again :  and  while  the 
Captain  retained  his  Lordship's  hand, 
he  congratulated  him  even  in  the  arms 
of  Death  on  his  brilliant  victory ; 
"which,"  he  said,  "was  complete; 
though  he  did  not  know  how  many  of 
the  Enemy  were  captured,  as  it  was  / 
impossible  to  perceive  every  ship  dis- 
tinctly. He  was  certain  however  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen  having  surrendered." 

His  Lordship  answered,  "  That  is 
well,  but  I  bargained  for  twenty"  : 
and  then  emphatically  exclaimed, 
"  Anchor,  Hardy,  anchor!" 

To  this  the  Captain  replied  :  "  I  sup- 
pose, my  Lord,  Admiral  Collingwood 
will  now  take  upon  himself  the  direc- 
tion of  affairs." 

"  Not  while  I  live,  I  hope,  Hardy  !  " 
cried  the  dying  Chief ;  and  at  that  mo- 
ment endeavoured  ineffectually  to  raise 
himself  from  the  bed. 

"  No,"  added  he  ;  "  ^o  you  anchor, 
Hardy." 

Captain  Hardy  then  said  :  "  Shall  we 
make  the  signal,  Sir?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  his  Lordship; 
"for  if  I  live,  I'll  anchor." 

The  energetic  manner  in  which  he 
uttered  these  his  last  Orders  to  Captain 
Hardy,  accompanied  with  his  efforts  to 
raise  himself,  evinced  his  determination 
never  to  resign  the  command  while  he 
retained  the  exercise  of  his  transcendant 
faculties,  and  that  he  expected  Captain 


290 


The  Death  of  Nelson 


Hardy  still  to  carry  into  effect  the  sug- 
gestions of  his  exalted  mind  ;  a  sense  of 
his  duty  overcoming  the  pains  of  death. 

He  then  told  Captain  Hardy,  "  he 
felt  that  in  a  few  minutes  he  should  be 
no  more;"  adding  in  a  low  tone, 
"  Don't  throw  me  overboard,  Hardy." 

The  Captain  answered,  "Oh!  no, 
certainly  not." 

"  Then,"  replied  his  Lordship,  "  you 
know  what  to  do  :  and"  continued  he, 
"  take  care  of  my  dear  Lady  Hamilton  ; 
take  care  of  poor  Lady  Hamilton. 
Kiss  me,  Hardy." 

The  Captain  now  knelt  down,  and 
kissed  his  cheek ;  when  his  Lordship 
said,  "Now  I  am  satisfied.  Thank 
God,  I  have  done  my  duty."    .   .   . 

His  Lordship  became  speechless  in 
about  fifteen  minutes  after  Captain 
Hardy  left  him.  Dr.  Scott  and  Mr. 
Burke,  who  had  all  along  sustained  the 
bed  under  his  shoulders  (which  raised 
him  in  nearly  a  semirecumbent  posture, 
the  only  one  that  was  supportable  to 
him),  forbore  to  disturb  him  by  speak- 
ing to  him  ;  and  when  he  had  remained 
speechless  about  five  minutes,  his  Lord- 
ship's Steward  went  to  the  Surgeon, 
who  had  been  a  short  time  occupied 
with  the  wounded  in  another  part  of 
the  Cockpit,  and  stated  his  apprehen- 
sions that  his  Lordship  was  dying. 

The  Surgeon  immediately  repaired 
to  him,  and  found  him  on  the  verge  of 
dissolution.  He  knelt  down  by  his 
side,  and  took  up  his  hand ;  which  was 
cold  and  the  pulse  gone  from  the  wrist. 

On  the  Surgeon's  feeling  his  fore- 
head, which  was  likewise  cold,  his 
Lordship  opened  his  eyes,  looked  up, 
and  shut  them  again. 


The  Surgeon  again  left  him,  and  re- 
turned to  the  wounded  who  required 
his  assistance  ;  but  was  not  absent  five 
minutes  before  the  Steward  announced 
to  him  that  "he  believed  his  Lordship 
had  expired."  The  Surgeon  retired, 
and  found  that  the  repoi't  was  but  too 
well  founded  :  his  Lordship  had  breathed 
his  last,  at  thirty  minutes  past  four 
o'clock  ;  at  which  period  Dr.  Scott  was 
in  the  act  of  rubbing  his  Lordship's 
breast,  and  Mr.  Burke  supporting  the 
bed  under  his  shoulders. 


5.  Letter  from  Captain  Pascoe,  flag 
lieutenant  on  board  the  Victory.  Writ- 
ten thirty-five  years  after  the  battle. 
(In  Memoir  of  Codrington.  London, 
Longmans,  1873.) 

His  lordship  came  to  me  on  the  poop, 
and  after  ordering  certain  signals  to  be 
made,  about  a  quarter  to  noon  he  said  : 
"  Mr.  Pascoe,  I  wish  to  say  to  the  fleet, 
'  England  confides  that  every  man  will 
do  his  duty'  " — and  he  added,  "  You 
must  be  quick,  for  I  have  one  more  to 
make,  which  is  for  close  action."  I 
replied,  "If  your  lordship  will  permit 
me  to  substitute  the  word  '  expects '  for 
'confides'  the  signal  will  sooner  be 
completed,  because  the  word  '  expects' 
is  in  the  vocabulary,  but  the  word 
'confides'  must  be  spelt."  His  lord- 
ship replied  in  haste,  and  with  seeming 
satisfaction,  "That  will  do  Pascoe; 
make  it  directly."  When  it  had  been 
answered  by  a  few  ships  in  the  van,  he 
ordered  me  to  make  the  signalfor  close 
action,  and  to  keep  it  up  :  accordingly 
I  hoisted  No.  16  at  the  top-gallant  mast- 
head, and  there  it  remained  until  shot 
away. 


^c 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


291 


GROUP  XXXI. 


THE    BATTLE    OF    WATERLOO. 


i .  Letter  from  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton to  Sir  Charles  Flint.  (In  Booth's 
Battle  of  Waterloo,  3rd  Edition.  Lon- 
don, 1817,  Vol.  I.  p.  95.) 

Would  you  credit  it,  Napoleon  over- 
thrown by  the  gallantry  of  a  British 
army  ! — But  I  am  quite  heart-broken  by 
the  loss  I  have  sustained ;  my  friends, 
my  poor  soldiers — how  many  of  them 
have  I  to  regret ! — I  shall  follow  up 
this  tide  of  success,  and  I  shall  not  be 
satisfied  even  with  this  victory,  if  it  be 
not  followed  by  the  total  overthrow  of 
Buonaparte. — June  iSth. 


2.  Letter  from  Blucher  to  his  wife 
immediately  after  the  battle.  (In 
Booth's  Battle  of  Waterloo.  London, 
1817,  Vol.  I.  p.  96.) 

My  dear  Wife  :  You  well  remember 
what  I  promised  you,  and  I  have  kept 
my  word.  The  Enemy's  superiority  of 
numbers  obliged  me  to  give  way  on  the 
17th,  but  on  the  18th,  in  conjunction 
with  my  friend  Wellington,  I  put  an 
end  at  once  to  Buonaparte's  dancing. 
His  army  is  completely  routed,  and  the 
whole  of  his  artillery,  baggage, 
caissons,  and  equipages,  are  in  my 
hands ;  the  insignia  of  all  the  various 
orders  he  had  worn,  are  just  brought 
me,  having  been  found  in  his  carriage, 
in  a  casket.  I  had  two  horses  killed 
under  me  yesterday.  It  will  soon  be 
all  over  with  Buonaparte. 

Blucher, 
"P.  S.  (Written  by  the  Prince's  son, 
on  the  road  to  Genappe.)  Father 
Blucher  embraced  Wellington  in  such 
a  hearty  manner,  that  every  body  who 
were  present,  said  it  was  the  most 
affecting  scene  that  could  be  imagined." 


3.  Letter  of  Blucher  to  his  wife. 
(From  Colomb  :  Blucher  in  Brief  en 
aus  den  Feldziigen  18 13-15.  Stuttgart, 
1876,  p.  151.) 

Gosselies,  June  25,  181 5. 
I  have  pretty  well  recovered  from  my 
fall,  but  again  one  of  my  horses  has 
been  wounded.  I  do  not  expect  that 
there  will  be  any  more  fighting  of  con- 
sequence here  in  the  near  future,  per- 
haps none  at  all ;  our  victory  is  the 
most  complete  that  has  ever  been 
gained.  Napoleon  disappeared  in  the 
night  without  hat  or  sword  ;  I  am  send- 
ing his  hat  and  sword  to  the  King  to- 
day. His  splendid  robe  of  state  and 
his  carriage  are  in  my  hands ;  I  possess 
also  the  field-glass  through  which  he 
watched  us  on  the  day  of  the  battle.  I 
will  send  you  the  carriage ;  it  is  only  a 
pity  that  it  has  been  injured.  His 
jewels  and  all  his  valuables  have  be- 
come the  booty  of  our  troops  ;  nothing 
is  left  of  his  equipment  at  all  and  many 
a  soldier  is  five  or  six  thousand  thalers 
the  richer.  He  was  in  his  carriage  on 
his  way  back  when  he  was  surprised 
by  our  troops.  He  sprang  out,  threw 
himself  on  his  horse  without  his  sword, 
his  hat  at  the  same  time  falling  off,  and 
thus  apparently  favored  by  the  night 
made  his  escape — whither,  Heaven  only 
knows.  To-day  I  push  on  into  France 
with  the  greater  part  of  the  army.  The 
results  of  this  victory  are  incalculable 
and  according  to  my  judgment  must 
include  Napoleon's  ruin;  the  French 
nation  must  and  will  despise  him.  Then 
I  hope  peace  will  ensue  and,  with 
God's  help,. before  the  winter  I  will  be 
with  you  again.  Your  brother  is  per- 
fectly well  and  fought  as  an  excellent 
officer  with  his  new  regiment  on  the 
day  of   the    battle.     All   my  suite   are 


292 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


sound  and  well  and  I  am  looking  eager- 
ly for  news  from  you. 

I   am   trembling    so    that  I   can  not 
write  much    myself — nor    have    I    any 
time.     Farewell  and   continue  to  love 
Your  dearest  friend. 


4.  Extract  of  a  Letter  from  an  officer 
of  the  Quards.  (In  Booth's  Battle  of 
Waterloo.  London,  181 7,  Vol.  I.  p. 
61  ff.) 

Village  of  Gommignies,  June  22,  1S15. 
.  .  .  The  2nd  and  3d  battalions  of 
the  first  regiment  were  formed  with  the 
two  battalions  of  Brunswickers  into 
hollow  squares,  on  the  slope  and  sum- 
mit of  the  hill,  so  as  to  support  each 
other ;  and  in  this  situation  we  all  lay 
down,  till  between  three  and  four 
o'clock  P.  M.,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
storm  of  death,  which  was  flying  close 
over  our  heads,  and  at  almost  every 
moment  carrying  destruction  among 
us :  and  it  is,  you  will  allow,  a  circum- 
stance highly  creditable  to  those  men, 
to  have  lain  so  many  hours  under  a  fire, 
which  for  intensity  and  precision  was 
never,  I  believe,  equalled  ;  with  nothing 
else  to  occupy  their  attention,  save 
watching  their  companions  falling 
aiound  them,  and  listening  to  their 
mournful  cries.  It  was  about  the  time 
I  have  just  named,  that  the  Enemy, 
having  gained  the  orchard,  commenced 
their  desperate  charges  of  cavalry,  un- 
der cover  of  the  smoke,  which  the  burn- 
ing houses,  etc,  had  caused ;  the  whole 
of  which  the  wind  drifted  towards  us, 
and  thus  prevented  our  observing  their 
approach.  At  this  period  the  battle 
assumed  a  character  beyond  descrip- 
tion interesting,  and  anxiously  awful. 
Buonaparte  was  about  to  use  against  us 
an  arm,  which  he  had  never  yet  wielded 
but  with  success.  Confidently  relying 
upon  the  issue  of  this  attack,  he 
charged  our  artillery  and  infantry,  hop- 
ing to  capture  the  one,  and  break  the 


other,  and,  by  instantly  establishing 
his  own  infantry  on  the  heights,  to  carry 
the  Brussels  road,  and  throw  our  line 
into  confusion.  These  cavalry,  selected 
for  their  tried  gallantry  and  skill  (not 
their  height  or  mustachios),  who  were 
the  terror  of  Northern  Europe,  and  had 
never  yet  been  foiled,  were  first  brought 
up  by  the  3rd  battalion  of  the  1st  regi- 
ment. Never  was  British  valour  and 
discipline  so  pre-eminent  as  on  this 
occasion  ;  the  steady  appearance  of  this 
battalion  caused  the  famous  Cuirassiers 
to  pull  up ;  and  a  few  of  them,  with 
the  courage  worthy  of  a  better  cause, 
rode  out  of  the  ranks,  and  fired  at  our 
people  and  mounted  officers,  with  their 
pistols,  hoping  to  make  the  face  of  the 
square  throw  its  fire  upon  them,  and 
thus  become  an  easy  prey :  but  our 
men,  with  a  steadiness  no  language 
could  do  justice  to,  defied  their  efforts, 
and  did  not  pull  a  single  trigger.  The 
French  then  made  a  sudden  rush,  but 
were  received  in  such  a  manner,  and 
with  a  volley  so  well  directed,  as  at 
once  to  turn  them  ;  they  then  made  an 
attempt  on  the  2nd  battalion,  and  the 
Brunswickers,  with  similar  success.  .  .  . 
Buonaparte  renewed  his  cannonade, 
which  was  destructive  to  a  degree,  pre- 
paratory to  an  attack  of  his  whole 
infantry.  I  constantly  saw  the  noble 
Duke  of  Wellington  riding  backwards 
and  forwards  like  the  Genius  of  the 
storm,  who,  borne  upon  his  wings, 
directed  its  thunder  where  to  burst. 
He  was  everywhere  to  be  found, 
encouraging,  directing,  animating.  He 
was  in  a  blue  short  cloak,  and  a  plain 
cocked  hat,  his  telescope  in  his  hand  ; 
there  was  nothing  that  escaped  him, 
nothing  that  he  did  not  take  advantage 
of,  and  his  lynx's  eyes  seemed  to  pene- 
trate the  smoke,  and  forestall  the  move- 
ments of  the  foe.  How  he  escaped, 
that  merciful  Power  alone  can  tell, 
who  vouchsafed  to  the  allied  arms  the 


'"&     ' 

it  "  y-:  \ 

\        7/://////',  r   /// /:///  ////  /// /////r//r //  . 

The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


293 


issue  of  this  pre-eminent  contest;  for 
such  it  is,  whether  considered  as  an 
action  by  itself,  or  with  regard  to  the 
results  which  it  had  brought  about. 
Upon  the  cavalry  being  repulsed,  the 
Duke  himself  ordered  our  second  bat- 
talion to  form  line  with  the  third  bat- 
talion, and,  after  advancing  to  the  brow 
of  the  hill,  to  lie  down  and  shelter  our- 
selves from  the  fire.  Here  we  remained, 
I  imagine  near  an  hour.  It  was  now 
about  seven  o'clock.  The  French 
infantry  had  in  vain  been  brought  up 
against  our  line,  and,  as  a  last  resource, 
Buonaparte  resolved  upon  attacking 
our  part  of  the  position  with  his  veteran 
Imperial  Guard,  promising  them  the 
plunder  of  Brussels.  Their  artillery 
covered  them,  and  they  advanced  in 
solid  column  to  where  we  lay.  The 
Duke,  who  was  riding  behind  us, 
watched  their  approach,  and  at  length, 
when  within  a  hundred  yards  of  us, 
exclaimed,  "Up,  Guards,  and  at  them, 
again!"  Never  was  there  a  prouder 
moment  than  this  for  our  country  and 
ourselves.  The  household  troops  of 
both  nations  were  now,  for  the  first 
time,  brought  in  contact,  and  on  the 
issue  of  their  struggle  the  greatest  of 
stakes  was  placed.  The  Enemy  did 
not  expect  to  meet  us  so  soon  ;  we  suf- 
fered them  to  approach  still  nearer,  and 
then  delivered  a  fire  into  them,  which 
made  them  halt;  a  second,  like  the 
first,  carried  hundreds  of  deaths  into 
their  mass  ;  and,  without  suffering  them 
to  deploy,  we  gave  them  three  British 
cheers,  and  a  British  charge  of  the  bay- 
onet. This  was  too  much  for  their 
nerves,  and  they  fled  in  disorder.  The 
shape  of  their  column  was  tracked  by 
their  dying  and  dead,  and  not  less  than 
three  hundred  of  them  had  fallen  in  two 
minutes  to  rise  no  more.  Seeing  the 
fate  of  their  companions,  a  regiment  of 
tirailleurs  of  the  Guard  attempted  to 
attack  our  flank ;  we  instantly  charged 


them,  and  our  cheers  rendered  any 
thing  further  unnecessary,  for  they 
never  awaited  our  approach.  The 
French  now  formed  solid  squares  in 
their  rear,  to  resist  our  advance,  which, 
however,  our  cavalry  cut  to  pieces. 
The  Duke  now  ordered  the  whole  line 
to  move  forward ;  nothing  could  be 
more  beautiful.  The  sun,  which  had 
hitherto  been  veiled,  at  this  instant  shed 
upon  us  in  departing  rays,  as  if  to  smile 
upon  the  efforts  we  were  making,  and 
bless  them  with  success.  As  we  pro- 
ceeded in  line  down  the  slope,  the  reg- 
iments on  the  high  ground  on  our 
flanks  were  formed  into  hollow  squares, 
in  which  manner  they  accompanied  us, 
in  order  to  protect  us  from  cavalry — the 
blow  was  now  struck,  the  victory  was 
complete,  and  the  Enemy  fled  in  every 
direction :  his  deroute  was  the  most 
perfect  ever  known,  in  the  space  of  a 
mile  and  a  half  along  the  road,  we 
found  more  than  thirty  guns,  besides 
ammunition  wagons,  etc.,  etc.  Our 
noble  and  brave  coadjutors,  the  Prus- 
sians, who  had  some  time  since  been 
dealing  out  havock  in  the  rear  of  the 
Enemy,  now  falling  in  with  our  line  of 
march,  we  halted,  and  let  them  continue 
the  pursuit.  Buonaparte  fled  the  field 
on  the  advance  of  the  Prussians,  and 
the  annihilation  of  his  Imperial  Guard, 
with  whose  overthrow  all  his  hopes 
perished.  Thus  ended  the  day  of 
"Waterloo."  The  skill  and  courage 
of  our  artillery  could  not  be  exceeded. 
The  brigade  of  Guards,  in  Hougoumont, 
suffered  nothing  to  rob  them  of  their 
post :  every  regiment  eclipsed  its  former 
deeds  by  the  glories  of  to-day ;  and  I 
cannot  better  close  this  than  by  inform- 
ing you,  that  when  we  halted  for  the 
night,  which  we  did  close  toVwhere 
Buonaparte  had  been  during  a  great 
portion  of  the  battle,  and  were  pre- 
paring our  bivouac  by  the  road  side,  a 
regiment   of   Prussian    lancers  coming 


294 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


by,  halted,  and  played  "God  save  the 
King,"  than  which  nothing  could  be 
more  appropriate  or  grateful  to  our 
feelings ;  and  I  am  sure  I  need  scarcely 
add,  that  we  gave  them  three  heartfelt 
cheers,  as  the  only  return  we  could 
then  offer." 

5.  Letters  of  a  young  officer  to  his 
sister.  (From  Letters  and  Journals  of 
Sir  W.  M.  Gomm.  London,  Murray, 
i88i,p.  349.) 

Brussels,  June  13th,  1815. 

Since  I  last  wrote  to  you  I  have  been 
attached  to  the  5th  division  (Picton's)  ; 
it  is  not  certain,  however,  that  I  shall 
continue  with  it.  This,  however,  se- 
cures me  a  place  in  the  world  when- 
ever the  army  moves.   .   .   . 

Camp  of  Waterloo,  June  19th. 

I  know  what  satisfaction  it  will  give 
you  to  learn  that  I  have  been  with  the 
5th  division,  and,  therefore,  in  the  hot- 
test of  all  this  "  glorious  business,"  and 
have  escaped  with  two  blows  which 
are  of  no  consequence,  and  two  horses 
wounded  which  is  of  great  consequence. 

The  Prussians  are  marching  upon 
Charleroi,  and  we  move  upon  Nivelles 
immediately. 

I  consider  the  French  army  as  utterly 
destroyed,  and  we  shall  be  in  Paris  as 
fast  as  our  legs  can  carry  us.  Tell 
Aunt  so,  and  recommend  her  to  leave 
off  croaking.  I  am  writing  this  unin- 
telligibly enough,  but  it  would  be  still 
worse  by  word  of  mouth  at  this  mo- 
ment, for  I  am  so  hoarse  at  hurraing 
all  yesterday  that  I  can  scarcely  articu- 
late. 

I  have  been  four  days  without  wash- 
ing face  or  hands,  but  am  in  hourly 
expectation  of  my  lavender  water,  etc. 
I  am  very  tired.  Adieu,  dear  Sophia  ; 
I  hope  this  will  reach  you  early,  for  I 
well  know  how  anxious  you  all  will  be 
about  me.  Best  love  to  Aunt,  Henry, 
Goully  and  all  friends.  I  am  much 
afraid  dear  Goully  will  be  called  upon 


to  illuminate  ruinously  on  this  occa- 
sion. We  have  done  nothing  like  it 
since  Blenheim,  and  the  consequences 
are  likely  to  be  far  more  important. 
Ever  your  affectionate  brother 

W.  M.  Gomm. 


6.  Letter  of  Gneisenau  to  Madame 
von  Clausewitz  and  Countess  Dohna. 
(In  Pertz-Delbriick,  Das  Leben  Gneise- 
naus,  Vol.  IV.  p.  535.) 

Henappe-sur-Oise,  not  far  from  Guise,. 
June  24,  18 1 5. 

My  revered  Friends  :  If  the  evening 
in  Namur  pleased  you,  you  had  better 
set  out  at  once  and  follow  us,  for  in  or 
near  Paris  we  can  celebrate  a  similar 
or  even  merrier  evening. 

First  of  all  you  must  know  that  your 
husbands  are  safe  and  sound.  The 
third  Army  Corps  had  to  cover  our  rear 
while  we  were  fighting.  It  suffered 
violent  attacks  and  fought  on  the  18th,. 
19th  and  20th.  Dohna  and  his  regi- 
ment made  a  fine  attack  near  Namur, 
conquering  five  cannon  and  thus  estab- 
lishing the  fame  of  his  regiment.  It 
went  hard  with  the  third  Corps  at  first 
but  it  has  come  out  all  right.  Had  we 
lost  the  battle  it  would  have  been  our 
only  stand-by. 

Never  was  there  a  finer  battle  than 
ours  at  Belle-Alliance  (Waterloo)  ; 
never  was  one  more  decisive ;  the 
enemy  annihilated  as  never  an  enemy 
before.  With  several  army  Corps  we 
had  crept  round  in  the  rear  of  the 
enemy,  who  with  greatly  superior  num- 
bers and  still  greater  violence  had  at- 
tacked the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and 
had  concealed  a  number  of  our  brigades 
in  a  wood.  Just  when  the  fate  of  the 
day  was  wavering,  when  the  British 
army  had  already  considerably  lost 
ground  and  the  enemy  was  about  to 
give  it  its  death-blow  we  made  up  our 
minds,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  most  of 
our  brigades  had  not  yet  come  up,  to 


///////. i  /  (       I/'///// r/  "//(,/  f// /  V  //    f/  //*■/, ) /////// 
dtt.XH  SeMJtt    tan    ?M .<),■(„!,.  t'r><)  ,    ,/<■*(.;,<  /'<,*<■,,  <ir,i    V4.Jug.l83/. 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


295 


make  the  attack  with  only  two  brigades. 
We  burst  forth  from  the  wood,  directly 
in  the  rear  of  the  enemy,  and  opened 
our  fire.  The  enemy  was  in  a  desper- 
ate situation  and  fought,  indeed,  with 
desperation,  throwing  all  its  reserves 
against  us.  We  kept  our  positions. 
The  enemy  led  troop  after  troop  against 
us,  but  we  too  gained  reinforcements 
from  one  quarter  of  an  hour  to  another. 

The  firing  was  so  violent  that  with 
every  pulse  beat  one  of  the  enemy's 
balls  whizzed  by,  not  to  speak  of  our 
own  shots.  I  could  hardly  hear  the 
messages  that  came  and  even  with  my 
strong  voice  had  often  to  exert  myself 
very  much  in  order  to  be  heard.  As 
reinforcements  came  up  we  now  pressed 
forward  cautiously  but  uninterruptedly. 
It  was  a  fine  spectacle  to  see  our  four- 
cornered  batallions  descend  the  terraced 
heights  with  their  batteries  and  tirail- 
leurs in  front.  After  a  stubborn  resist- 
ance the  enemy  scattered  in  wild  flight. 

I  made  up  my  mind  to  leave  him  no 
rest,  put  myself  at  the  head  of  the 
troops,  encouraged  the  wearied  ones  to 
follow  me  and  thus  with  only  a  few 
cannon  which  I  let  thunder  forth  from 
time  to  time  I  chased  the  enemy  from 
all  his  bivouacs.  Thus  we  followed, 
constantly  shooting  and  hewing  them 
down,  until  we  came  to  the  encamp- 
ment of  the  Guards.  Bonaparte  had 
intended  to  stop  in  Jenappe  but  when 
he  heard  our  cannon-shots  and  our  in- 
fantry and  cavalry,  small  as  they  were, 
came  up,  he  fled  from  his  carriage  de- 
fending himself  with  a  pistol.  His  hat 
and  sword  remained  in  our  hands.  We 
have  his  whole  baggage,  his  diamonds 
even.  My  fusileers  sold  four  or  five 
diamonds  as  large  and  larger  than  peas 
for  a  few  francs.  Quite  a  number  of 
diamonds  fell  to  our  share  of  this  size 
(drawing  about  the  size  of  a  small  bean) 
and  one  even  of  this  size  (large  as  a 
pigeon-egg.)      The  fusileers  chose  out 


the  finest  and  sent  them  as  a  present  to 
the  King.  The  subalterns  of  this  bat- 
allion  dine  now  off  silver.  As  my 
share  of  the  booty  I  kept  Bonaparte's 
seal,  the  one  with  which  I  seal  this 
letter.  We  did  not  halt  until  day- 
break. It  was  the  most  glorious  night 
of  my  life.  The  moon  lighted  up  the 
beautiful  scene ;  the  weather  was  mild. 
This  news  that  I  am  sending  you  might 
very  well  be  put  in  the  Dusseldorf 
paper,  but  without  mentioning  my 
name. 

We  have  conquered  more  than  400 
cannon.  The  enemy  is  hastening  in 
wild  flight  towai-ds  Paris  or  else  is 
scattering  far  and  wide.  Bonaparte  in 
a  round  hat  hurried  through  Beaumont. 

Our  loss  is  great.  In  the  three  days 
of  battle  we  have  lost  nearly  22000  men 
in  dead  and  wounded.  But  the  army 
for  the  most  part  showed  out  magnif- 
icently. It  is  unheard-of  in  history 
that  twenty-four  hours  after  a  lost  bat- 
tle a  new  one  is  engaged  in  and  so 
decisive  a  victory  gained. 

The  interest  which  you,  honored 
ladies,  take  in  my  person  is  for  me  a 
sweet  reward.  In  the  last  battle  I  again 
had  a  horse  shot  through  with  a  cannon- 
ball  while  another  was  twice  wounded 
by  a  small  ball.  My  sabre  was  once 
knocked  out  of  its  sheath,  another  time 
shot  in  pieces.  My  contusion  is  not 
worth  mentioning.  God  preserve  you, 
brave  German  women !  For  such 
women  one  is  glad  to  fight.  May  my 
daughters  grow  up  with  such  senti- 
ments in  their  breasts. 

Gneisenau. 

7.  Correspondence  between  Gneis- 
enau and  Muffling.  (In  Pertz-Delbriick, 
Gneisenau' s  Leben,  Vol.  IV.  pp.  542 
ff . )      Tra  nsla  Hon. 

a.   Gneisenau  to  Muffling. 
Compiegne,  June  27,  1815. 
The  French  General  de  Tromelin  is  in 
Noyons  on  his  way  to  the  headquarters 


296 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  order  to 
treat  about  the  handing  over  of  Bona- 
parte. 

Bonaparte  has  been  pronounced  an 
outlaw  by  the  declaration  of  the  allied 
powers.  It  is  possible  that  the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  out  of  regard  for  Par- 
liament, will  hesitate  to  carry  out  the 
sentence  of  the  powers.  You  accord- 
ingly are  to  direct  the  negotiations  in 
this  matter  to  the  end  that  Bonaparte 
be  handed  over  to  us  to  be  put  to 
death. 

Thus  eternal  justice  wills  it,  thus  the 
declaration  of  the  13th  of  March  deter- 
mines, thus  will  the  blood  of  our 
soldiers  who  were  killed  and  mutilated 
on  the  1 6th  and  18th  be  avenged. 

von  Gneisenau. 

b.   Muffling  to  Gneisenazi. 

Nesle,  June  28th,  1815. 

I  have  had  a  conversation  with  the 
Duke  of  Wellington  concerning  the 
surrender  and  execution  of  Bonaparte. 
He  gave  me  two  answers ;  the  first  as 
British  marshal : 

That  he  believed  now  our  first  duty 
was  to  march  on  Paris.  Could  we 
effect  Napoleon's  surrender  we  would 
have  to  accept  it  but  he  did  not  believe 
that  the  declaration  of  the  13th  of 
March  authorized  an  execution  for 
"  livre  a  la  vindicte  publique"  did  not 
determine  that  he  should  be  regarded 
as  an  outlaw,  but  that  he  should  be 
proceeded  against  judicially.  After 
the  recent  great  events  that  had  hap- 
pened he  considered  that  it  was  not  a 
case  of  pericula  in  mora  and  accord- 
ingly would  feel  it  his  duty  in  case 
Napoleon  were  handed  over  to  Prince 
Blucher  and  the  latter  should  wish  to 
execute  him  to  request  the  prince  in 
writing  to  postpone  the  matter. 

As  a  friend  the  Duke  spoke  as  fol- 
lows : 


The  Prince  could  have  Napoleon 
executed  in  two  ways,  either  after  a 
trial  or  by  shooting  him  without  cer- 
emony. If  the  good  of  Europe  de- 
manded it  he  himself  would  have  no 
compunctions,  but  as  this  was  not  the 
case  such  an  execution  would  go  down 
in  history  as  an  action  odieuse  even 
though  the  generation  alive  at  present 
should  not  blame  it.  The  Duke  con- 
sidered that  which  these  two  armies 
had  accomplished  to  be  so  great  that 
the  two  commanders  by  exercising  mod- 
eration could  only  add  to  the  glory  of 
their  deeds. 

I  answered  that  it  seemed  to  me  if 
Prince  Blucher  were  to  proceed  against 
Napoleon  it  would  be  an  acte  de  de- 
vouement,  inasmuch  as  one  could  be 
certain  the  sovereigns  would  grant 
Bonaparte  his  life. 

I  am  not  a  sovereign,  answered  the 
Duke,  but  I  believe  the  Prince  will 
think  as  I  do — in  the  condition  in 
which  we  are,  nous  ne  cederons  a, 
aucun  souverain ;  and  why  should  we 
do  something  that  sovereigns  would  not 
do  or  about  which  anyone  could  say  to 
us,  they  would  not  have  done  it? 

c.   Gneisenau  to  Muffling. 

Senlis,  June  29,  1815. 

The  Field-marshal  orders  me  still  to 
say  that  you  shall  explain  to  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  that  it  had  been  the 
Field-marshal's  intention  to  execute 
Bonaparte  on  the  same  spot  where  the 
Duke  of  Enghien.  was  shot,  but  that 
out  of  regard  for  the  Duke's  wishes  he 
would  omit  the  execution.  The  Duke 
however  must  assume  the  responsibility 
for  such  omission. 

It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  English 
would  be  embarrassed  with  regard  to 
this  surrender  of  Bonaparte.  You  are 
therefore  to  negotiate  solely  on  the  basis 
of  his  being  handed  over  to  us. 

N.  vox  Gneisenau. 


NAPOLEON  JUST  BEFORE  THE  BATTLE  OF  WATERLOO. 


t^        OF   THE  r 

UNIVERSITY 
^CALIFOf^> 


NAPOLEON    ON   THE    ISLAND    OF    ST.    HELENA. 
(From  an  engraving  of  Horace  Vernet's  picture.) 


QJJEEN    VICTORIA. 
('About  1S40  A.  D.     Anonymous  engraving-.) 


7"-4e-  QuAest'.VoM'crsjres;  h^r-  TcUZ  6ome- tA^Zor-d-  TtnofSl/oM' 


TAe  f>e**t&a~s  Jf- R  ]T  T&&  I'rtjbca-  oF  Wed**,  dornf  6y  bke  Dit£A*S3  of  £t<eeZ«>-rA, 

CHRISTENING    OF    H.  R.  H.  THE    PRINCE   OF   WALES,    184I    A.  D 
(Contemporary  caricatures.) 


CJutf iVel.Jt?*s-<         C/utfi IryrJSum 


•JCuytes  oFlAe-  Gou-ter 


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aid.  of  eke.  Toi-dxrt 


Jiteheps 


J£es-  sttet/eslys  Private.  Oryatte  t 
otMC^6ssi4totn£. . 


Ciaplcuns   in.  OroUnetry 

CHRISTENING    OF   H.  R.  H.  THE    PRINCE    OF   WALES,    184I    A.  D. 
(Contemporary  caricatures.) 


Pejv  open**; 


T*  OF    THE  r 

UNIVERSITY 


Th+XtwmZ   Cot 


Usher  oF  lA*£l*U  Xoct- 


The.  Pry  JTusse* 


Peep  E&as-ers. 
toJf.J&  ff&^Printe  of  Wales. 


J/hp>Urv  iearer?  , 


CHRISTENING    OF   H.  R.  H.  THE    PRINCE    OF    WALES,    184I    A.  D. 
(Contemporary  caricatures.) 


The  Battle  of  Waterloo 


297 


d.   Gneisenau  to  Muffling. 

Senlis,  June  29,  1815. 

If  the  Duke  of  Wellington  declares 
against  the  execution  of  Bonaparte,  he 
thinks  and  acts  like  a  Briton.  To  no 
mortal  man  is  Great  Britain  under 
greater  obligations  than  to  just  this 
rascal,  for  through  the  events  that  he 
brought  to  pass  England's  greatness, 
prosperity  and  wealth  have  been  so 
vastly  increased.  They  are  lords  of 
the  sea  and  neither  in  this  dominion 
nor  in  the  commerce  of  the  world  have 
they  any  more  rivalry  to  fear. 

It  is  quite  different  with  us  Prussians. 
We  have  been  impoverished  by  him. 
Our  nobility  can  never  again  recover. 


And  should  we  not  look  upon  our- 
selves as  instruments  of  Providence 
which  has  granted  us  such  a  victory  in 
order  that  we  should  exercise  eternal 
justice?  Does  not  the  death  of  the 
Duke  of  Enghien  call  for  such  ven- 
geance? Shall  we  not  subject  our- 
selves to  the  reproaches  of  the  peoples 
of  Prussia,  Russia,  Spain  and  Portugal 
if  we  omit  to  render  justice? 

Well,  so  be  it  then  !  If  people  wish 
to  exercise  a  theatrical  great-hearted- 
ness  I  will  not  oppose  them.  I  take 
this  attitude  because  of  regard  for  the 
Duke  and — of  powerlessness. 

Count  Gneisenau. 


GROUP   XXXII. 

AN   AMERICAN    MINISTER   AT    THE    COURT    OF    LONDON. 

London,      semblage.    All  was  silence 


(From  Rush's   Narrative 
1833,  pp.  97  «•) 

February  25,  18 18. 

Having  brought  from  my  Govern- 
ment a  letter  of  credence  to  the  Queen, 
I  was  this  day  presented  to  her.  It 
was  called  a  private  presentation,  and 
took  place  at  Buckingham  Palace. 

I  got  to  the  palace  before  the  hour 
fixed.  Servants  were  at  the  door,  and 
in  the  hall.  Ascending  an  ample  stair- 
case, the  master  of  ceremonies  received 
me  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  a  suite,  all 
open,  but  no  one  else  in  them.  When 
five  o'clock  came,  he  conducted  me  to 
the  audience-room,  which  I  entered 
alone. 

Immediately  before  me  was  the 
Queen.  On  her  right  was  one  of  the 
Princesses;  her  daughter ;  on  her  left 
another.  Near  them  were  two  ladies 
in  waiting.  All  were  in  full  court- 
dresses ;  and  all' standing.  In  another 
part  of  the  room  were  her  Majesty's 
Chamberlain,  and  the  Duke  of  Mont- 
rose.     These  made    up  the  whole  as- 


Approach- 
ing the  Queen,  I  said  ; — "  Having  been 
accredited  by  his  Royal  Highness,  the 
Prince  Regent,  as  Envoy  Extraordinary 
and  Minister  Plenepotentiary  from  the 
United  States,  I  have  now  the  honor  to 
present  this  letter  to  Your  Majesty.  In 
executing  the  duties  of  my  mission, 
I  have  it  in  charge  from  the  President 
so  to  bear  myself  as  to  give  hope  of 
gaining  your  Majesty's  esteem;  and 
this  I  beg  to  assure  your  Majesty  will  be 
my  constant  ambition."  She  received 
the  letter.  As  she  took  it  she  said  that 
the  sentiments  I  expressed  were  very 
obliging,  and  entered  into  conversation. 
Learning  I  was  from  Philadelphia  she 
asked  questions  about  it,  and  others 
respecting  the  United  States,  generally ; 
all  put  in  a  very  kind  spirit.  The  in- 
terview lasted  about  fifteen  minutes. 

The  Queen  was  then  seventy-six. 
Her  birthday  was  the  day  following. 
As  I  entered  the  room,  and  during  the 
whole  interview,  there  was  a  benignity 
in  her   manner,   which,  in  union  with 


298        An  American  Minister  at  London 


her  age  and  rank,  was  both  attractive 
and  touching.  The  tones  of  her  voice 
had  a  gentleness  the  result,  in  part,  of 
years ;  but  full  as  much  of  intended 
suavity  to  a  stranger.  The  scene  as  it 
first  broke  upon  me,  its  novelty,  its 
quiet  yet  impressive  stateliness  became 
almost  immediately,  by  her  manner, 
one  of  naturalness  and  ease.  My  im- 
mediate predecessor,  Mr.  Adams,  when 
presented  to  her,  made  an  allusion  to 
qualities  in  her  character,  which,  as  I 
came  to  learn  through  a  good  source 
that  it  was  advantageously  remembered 
at  the  English  Court,  I  will  repeat. 
His  mission  commenced  in  1815,  directly 
after  the  war  between  the  two  countries. 
He  said,  that  the  political  relations  be- 
tween them  had  been  subject  to  the 
versatility  that  attended  all  human 
affairs ;  that  dissensions  had  arisen, 
which  however  had  been  removed ; 
but  that  the  reverence  commanded  by 
her  Majesty's  private  virtues  had  been 
subject  to  no  such  change ;  it  had  been 
invariably  felt  by  his  Government,  and 
he  could  utter  no  wish  more  propitious 
to  the  happiness  of  both  countries,  than 
that  the  future  harmony  between  them 
might  be  equally  unalterable.  The 
allusion  was  happy  because  it  was  just. 
Throughout  a  long  life  she  had  been 
uniformly  distinguished  by  her  private 
virtues,  and  her  efforts  to  imprint  them 
upon  the  times.  I  saw  her  sinking 
below  the  horizon.  But  the  serenity 
that  I  saw  betokened  that  as  the  splen- 
dors of  her  day  were  setting  she  had  a 
consciousness  that  it  was  not  for  them 
alone  she  had  lived. 

Feb.  27. 

Yesterday  her  Majesty  held  a  draw- 
ing-room. It  was  in  celebration  of  her 
birth-day.  My  wife  was  presented  by 
Lady  Castlereagh.   .   .   . 

Four  rooms  were  allotted  to  the 
ceremony.  In  the  second  was  the 
Queen.      She  sat  on  a  velvet  chair  and 


cushion,  a  little  raised  up.  .  .  .If  the 
scene  in  the  hall  was  picturesque,  the 
one  upstairs  transcended  it.  The  doors 
of  the  rooms  were  all  open.  You  saw 
in  them  a  thousand  ladies  richly  dressed. 
All  the  colors  of  nature  were  mingling 
their  rays  together.  It  was  the  first 
occasion  of  laying  by  mourning  for  the 
Princess  Charlotte ;  so  that  it  was  like 
the  bursting  out  of  spring.  No  lady 
was  without  her  plume.  The  whole 
was  a  waving  field  of  feathers.  Some 
were  blue,  like  the  sky ;  some  tinged 
with  red  ;  here  you  saw  violet  and  yel- 
low ;  there,  shades  of  green.  But  the 
most  were  like  tufts  of  snow.  The 
diamonds  encircling  them  caught  the 
sun  through  the  windows  and  threw 
dazzling  beams  around.  Then  the 
hoops  !  I  cannot  describe  these.  They 
should  be  seen.  To  see  one  is  nothing. 
But  to  see  a  thousand — and  their  thou- 
sand wearers  !  I  afterwards  sat  in  the 
Ambassadors'  box  at  a  coronation. 
That  sight  faded  before  this.  Each 
lady  seemed  to  rise  out  of  a  gilded  little 
barricade ;  or  one  of  silvery  texture. 
This,  topped  by  her  plume,  and  the 
"face  divine"  interposing,  gave  to  the 
whole  an  effect  so  unique,  so  fraught 
with  feminine  grace  and  grandeur,  that 
it  seemed  as  if  a  curtain  had  risen  to 
show  a  pageant  in  another  sphere.  It 
was  brilliant  and  joyous.  Those  to 
whom  it  was  not  new,  stood  at  gaze  as 
I  did.  Canning  for  one.  His  fine 
eye  took  it  all  in.  You  saw  admiration 
in  the  gravest  statesmen ;  Lord  Liver- 
pool, Huskisson,  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
everybody.  I  had  already  seen  in 
England  signs  enough  of  opulence  and 
power.  Now  I  saw,  radiating  on  all 
sides,  British  beauty.  My  own  coun- 
try I  believed  was  destined  to  a  just 
measure  of  the  two  first ;  and  I  had 
the  inward  assurance  that  my  country- 
women were  the  inheritresses  of  the 
last.       Matre  pulchrd  filia  pulchrior. 


KING   WILLIAM    IV.    AS   A    BOY. 
(Engraved  by  Bartolozzi.) 


-   THR 

UNIVERSITY 
.9* 


.  c 

}   ' 


An  American   Minister  at  London        299 


So  appeared  the  drawing-room  of  Queen 
Charlotte. 

April  8th. 

The  Princess  Elizabeth  was  married 
last  evening  to  the  Prince  of  Hesse 
Homburg.  .  .  .  Our  invitation  was 
from  the  Queen,  given  through  the 
Earl  of  Winchelsea,  nearly  three  weeks 
before.  .  ,  .  Soon  after  the  service  was 
performed  the  bride  and  bridegroom 
set  off  for  Windsor.  The  company  re- 
mained. The  evening  passed  in  high 
ceremony,  without  excluding  social 
ease.  From  the  members  of  the  royal 
family  the  guests  had  every  measure  of 
courtesy.  The  conduct  of  the  Queen 
was  remarkable.  This  venerable  per- 
sonage, the  head  of  a  large  family — 
her  children  then  clustering  about  her ; 
the  female  head  of  a  great  empire — in 
the  seventy-sixth  year  of  her  age — went' 
the  rounds  of  the  company,  speaking  to 
all.  There  was  a  kindliness  in  her 
manner  from  which  time  had  struck 
away  useless  forms.  No  one  did  she 
omit.  Around  her  neck  hung  a  minia- 
ture portrait  of  the  King.  He  was  ab- 
sent, scathed  by  the  hand  of  Heaven ;  a 
marriage  going  on  in  one  of  his  pal- 
aces ;  he  the  lonely,  suffering  tenant  of 
another.  But  the  portrait  was  a  token 
superior  to  a  crown  !  It  bespoke  the 
natural  glory  of  wife  and  mother, 
eclipsing  the  artificial  glory  of  Queen. 
For  more  than  fifty  years  this  royal  pair 
had  lived  together  in  affection.  The 
scene  would  have  been  one  of  interest 
anywhere.  May  it  not  be  noticed  on  a 
throne?  .   .   . 

April  16,  1818. 

Went  to  the  Court  of  King's  Bench 
to  hear  the  argument  in  the  case  of 
wager  of  battle.  The  parties  were 
present.  Through  the  courtesy  of  the 
Judges,  I  had  a  seat  on  the  bench,  next 
to  Mr.  Justice  Bayley.  On  his  left 
was  Lord  Chief  Justice  Ellenborough, 
occupying  the    seat  of    the  Cokes,  the 


Hales,  the  Mansfields.  To  the  left  of 
Lord  Ellenborough  were  Mr.  Justice 
Abbot  and  Mr.  Justice  Holroyd.  If  at 
Lord  Hardwicke's  I  was  awake  to  the 
associations  which  the  great  legal  names 
of  England  call  up,  the  feeling  could 
not  be  less  here.  The  room  was  ex- 
tremely full.  The  case  was  so  remark- 
able as  to  have  become  a  topic  in  gen- 
eral society. 

By  the  ancient  law  of  England,  when 
a  person  was  murdered,  the  nearest 
relative  of  the  deceased  might  bring 
what  was  called  an  appeal  of  death, 
against  the  party  accused  of  the  mur- 
der. Under  this  proceeding,  the  ac- 
cuser and  accused  fought.  The  weap- 
ons were  clubs.  The  battle  began  at 
sunrise,  and  was  in  presence  of  the 
Judges ;  by  whom  also  the  dress  of  the 
^ombatants,  and  all  other  formalities 
•wer&* arranged.  Part  of  the  oath  was, 
that  neither  combatant  would  resort  to 
witchcraft.  If  the  accused  was  slain, 
it  was  taken  as  proof  of  his  guilt;  if 
the  accuser,  of  his  innocence.  If  the 
former  held  out  until  star-light,  that 
also  attested  his  innocence.  If  either 
yielded  whilst  able  to  fight,  it  worked 
his  condemnation  and  disgrace.  Those 
who  wish  a  full  description  of  the  pro- 
ceedings, may  seek  it  in  Sully,  or  con- 
tinental writers  of  an  earlier  Jav,  as 
Froissart,  the  custom  having  been 
ported  into  England  by  the  Normaiib. 
My  summary  will  give  the  general  idea. 

It  was  a  mode  of  trial  for  dark  ages. 
Ashford  the  appellor,  had  accused 
Thornton  the  appellee,  of  the  murder 
of  one  of  his  relations,  and  the  latter 
desh-ed  to  fight.  In  the  highest  tribu- 
nal of  the  most  enlightened  country  of 
Europe,  I  was  listening  to  a  discussion 
whether  or  not  this  mode  of  trial  was 
in  force  in  the  nineteenth  century  !  It 
was  difficult  to  persuade  myself  of  the 
reality  of  the  scene.  Sir  Humphrey 
Davy's  remark  was  fresh  in  my  mind. 


300       An  American   Minister  at  London 


Mr.  Chitty,  a  lawyer  of  eminence, 
argued  against  the  right  of  battle.  Mr. 
Tindall  had  argued  on  the  other  side, 
on  a  former  day.  Fleta,  Bracton,  the 
Year-books,  and  other  repositories  of 
ancient  law,  were  rans  icked.  Abun- 
dant ability  was  displayed  on  both  sides. 
The  greatest  order  prevailed,  even  grav- 
ity. The  Judges  were  in  their  robes. 
About  seventy  lawyers  sat  in  front  of 
them  ;  all  in  gowns  and  wigs.  Finally, 
the  Judges  decided  that  trial  by  battle 
was  in  force.  It  had  never,  it  seems, 
been  repealed. 

To  repeal  laws,  belongs  to  the  legis- 
lature. Courts  expound  and  apply 
them.  Free  government  is  complex, 
and  works  slowly ;  tyranny  is  simple, 
and  does  its  work  at  once.  An  absurd 
law  may  sleep  in  a  free  code,  because 
overlooked  ;  but,  whilst  there,  it  is  the 
law.  It  is  so,  I  suppose,  that  we  must 
reason ;  and  generally  the  reasoning 
would  be  right.  Yet  it  might  have 
been  thought,  that,  in  a  case  like  this, 
long  disuse  added  to  obvious  absurdity, 
would  have  worked  the  silent  repeal  of 
the  law ;  according  to  the  doctrine  of 
desuetude  under  the  Roman  code. 

In  the  end,  no  battle  was  fought.     A 


technical  flaw  interposed  to  prevent  it, 
and  Parliament  passed  a  repealing 
statute.  But  the  case  marks  an  inci- 
dent in  English  jurisprudence,  having 
come  near  to  converting  the  Court  of 
King's  Bench  into  another  Lyceum  of 
Mendoza. 

On  the  17th  of  November,  died  the 
Queen.  She  expired  at  Kew  Palace, 
after  a  long  illness.  .  .  .  Her  funeral 
was  on  the  2nd  of  December,  at  Wind- 
sor. The  body  had  lain  in  state  for 
the  time  usual.  The  procession  moved 
from  Kew.  I  went  there  with  my  sons. 
The  multitude  was  so  great,  of  carriages, 
persons  on  horseback,  and  foot  passen- 
gers, that  it  might  be  said  to  form  a 
compact  mass  from  London  to  Kew,  a 
distance  of  eight  miles.  .  .  .  On  the 
3i'd  of  December  the  theatres  were  re- 
opened. I  went  to  Drury-Lane.  The 
house  was  crowded  and  everybody  in 
black  for  the  Queen.  Orders  for 
court  mourning  take  in  only  a  limited 
class ;  but  the  streets,  as  the  theatres, 
are  filled  with  persons  of  all  classes, 
who  put  it  on.  Even  children  wear  it, 
and  servants.  Such  is  the  usage  of  the 
country. 


KING    WILLIAM   IV. 


~  OF    THE  '  r 

UNIVERSITY 


OF 

university' 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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